


Unlock the Rain

by Lionescence



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Anxiety, Child Abandonment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionescence/pseuds/Lionescence
Summary: Adjusting to their new relationship, Shiro struggles to get Keith to open up to the rest of the team. He understands, of course, that between disappearing twice, dealing with a clone, and leading Voltron in his absence, Keith's walls are higher and as insurmountable as they have ever been. Despite their newfound love, Keith seems lonelier and further away than ever.A well-meaning gesture from a grateful alien allows those walls to come down. Just not the way anyone expected.Keith wouldn't know. He's only two-and-a-half years old.





	1. Oops

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfsan11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsan11/gifts).



> One of the best cheerleaders anyone could ever ask for.

The thing was, it was a perfectly pleasant occasion.

The Zerestri held a small banquet for the Allura and the Paladins of Voltron, the smallest that they’d ever experienced, really. If anything it was more of a family dinner: their contingent from the Castle of Lions, the Empress, her advisor, and the Empress Dowager. Servants flitted in and out of the dining room, filling cups and clearing plates and bringing in dish after dish. It was nice. Peaceful.

The Zerestri reminded Keith of the Olkari in their soft, plant-like appearance, though they were more floral and flamboyant. The Empress did not have hair so much as cascades of enormous royal purple petals that reached her tiny waist, with golden accents dotting her crown. Her mother, the Empress Dowager, was similar, though her petals curled at the ends and were a pale lilac, her skin more gnarled than her daughter’s. And where the Olkari were masters of biology-based technology, the Zerestri were genuinely green-thumbed and had deep empathy with nature and all living things.

Keith was always nervous around empaths. They wore him out, putting him on high alert, worrying that they would spot his mental hiding places, read the cards against his chest. So he mostly kept quiet.

The Empress was genuinely interested in how the Voltron team came to be, where they’d come from, how they’d met. And the more they told their story, the more invested and awed she became, asking more questions in a manner that was warm and earnest. He supposed it was nice, to be regarded as heroes and regaled in this smaller, quieter setting, but it meant that boisterousness was inevitable, and Lance was readily milking it for all it was worth. He liked being a hero. Keith knew that. He liked being noticed, and he could understand that, he supposed: being the youngest in a big family couldn’t have made it easy to get heard, or seen.

But sometimes, Lance forgot they were a team, that grandstanding wasn’t a thing Voltron did. Keith thought he’d have outgrown that need by now, now that Shiro — the real Shiro — was back with them, and Lion-and-Paladin pairings were back to their status quo. He’d thought that being his right hand for a while, would have matured Lance, and really, it had. They were better now, more even-footed, agreeable, even.

Perhaps it didn’t help that not long after Shiro’s return, Keith had to sit out of the team, and Lance and Allura returned to Red and Blue respectively. He’d only been back on active duty for a month now.

Pidge was talking about the Kerberos mission, when the Empress asked about their families. Keith tried to breathe and chew his meal at the same time, tried to not hear that story being retold.

He still froze at the words ‘pilot error’. He still mixed up breathing and swallowing, and coughed until food went the right way.

Under the table, Shiro’s hand was quick to grasp his.

Pidge quickly rescued the situation, explaining how she knew — and of course, so did Keith — that it was a lie, that the Garrison was covering up something bigger, and that had been all it took for the five of them to come crashing together when Shiro turned out to be the Man Who Fell To Earth.

“Yeah, no way that anyone was buying that ‘pilot error’ stuff,” Lance said, buoyed and cocky from all the attention. “Shiro’s the best pilot in the Garrison!”

Keith loved Pidge, God knew he did, but he wished she hadn’t said, “Actually, Lance, Keith is. He broke almost all of Shiro’s records, remember?”

Lance made that flapping noise he always used when he refused to be denied or interrupted. “Yeah, yeah and then he dropped out. So that doesn’t count.”

This again. After all this time, this _again_. Suddenly Keith was tired. More tired than he’d been while he was sick and unable to stay with the team. More tired than all the sleepless nights after Kerberos, after Shiro disappeared from Black, after Project Kuron. He was so tired of _this_.

And then: “If there’s a pilot error anywhere, it’s Keith.”

_Pilot error. Pilot error. Drop-out. Wash-out. Shiro’s dead. Pilot error. You’re the pilot error. You’re the mistake. Shiro’s mistake. Shiro’s dead._

Whatever cacophony Lance’s last sentence caused, it silenced when Keith pushed his chair back noisily, coming to a stand. He wanted to run, run as fast and as far as he could. But for a while, he flew the Black Lion, he was the decisive head of Voltron, and it was that that made him square his shoulders, bow gently at his waist, before he said, “Your Majesty. I will take my leave briefly.”

He refused to meet the deep concern in the Empress’s eyes. “But of course, my dear Paladin. Take the time you need.”

He fought to walk away, to walk and not run. He fought to clamp down on the scream in his throat, fought the walls inside him that trembled and shook and shuddered. He walked out of the room, shutting out everything but the thundering of his own heart.

 

 

 

Shiro made a mental list of ways he could punish Lance. Perhaps that wasn’t fair. Everyone was having a good time. They always did even when they told each other recollections of past missions and old victories. Lance was happy, and loud, and he loved an audience.

Sometimes he just forgot himself. Sometimes that had no real consequences.

Shiro knew he’d do nothing with that mental list. It was more important he find Keith. So much more. Keith had been through enough at his expense, and he had promised himself that if he ever got back, if he ever stood before Keith again, he would never hide again. He would never lie, to Keith or to himself, ever again.

Their relationship was still tentative and new, still gentle, and not a lot had really changed. Their touches lingered for longer, their gazes locked more often, and there was a new softness that seemed to put the team at ease. It amazed the others how they could have ever believed that Kuron was Shiro, when he’d shown none of the deep bond he had with Keith. And perhaps it had knocked them for a loop, when Shiro was reduced to an anxious mess while Keith was ill for the better part of a month, when his armour had cracked and he was just a man and not a Paladin.

It was that tension — man versus Paladin — that delayed his escape from the table to find Keith.

He found him in a courtyard, sitting on a stone bench, head tipped up to the pale green moon that hung overhead. He looked lovely, but he always did in this softest of light, in the element they shared among the stars, and it made his heart trip over itself, just for a beat or two, as he stepped closer. He knew he didn’t need to announce his presence: Keith always knew where he was.

Shiro slid behind the seated figure, set his palms on his shoulders and gently eased him back, giving him something to lean against. He had to lean a ways down, but he did, so he could press a kiss to the top of his head. “Hey.”

Keith only replied with a sigh.

“You held up well in there,” Shiro murmured, rubbing Keith’s shoulders down. It didn’t do much through their armour but it was the gesture that mattered. “I’d have punched him.”

“No you wouldn’t have. I would.”

Shiro hummed, questioning the truth of both statements. “You didn’t, though.”

“I still stormed out.”

“You walked.”

“Shiro.”

Shiro slid his hands down to cross over Keith’s sternum, flesh hand under metal. “Keith. In the best way possible… we’ve been a team for a long while now. Would it be so hard to… just open up a little more?” He felt Keith reach for his Galra hand, felt him raise it to his lips, kissing the palm, soft and feather-light. “Lance wouldn’t say any of that if he knew. If you just talked to him.”

He wondered why Keith hadn’t yet, really. From what he’d been told, Keith and Lance had worked and communicated well in his absence as the Black and Red Lions. They’d become a formidable pair, playing to each other’s strengths in a way they hadn’t before. He wondered if Keith had buried himself so deep in trying to lead, just as he’d asked, that he let more of himself, his wants, his needs, disappear under all the weight. Not for the first time, Shiro regretting leaving Keith with that burden, no matter how well-meaning he’d been.

“You know I can’t, Shiro,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t… I wouldn’t even know how to start. And anyway it’s not that big a deal.”

“Keith, it’s _hurting_ you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

And here was the new tension in their relationship. Shiro’s concern and Keith’s lack of concern, both over Keith’s own wellbeing. Shiro had known Keith long enough to know not to push, to let Keith arrive in his own time, but now that they were together, it was harder. Shiro wanted to make amends somehow, but Keith wouldn’t let him.

“Would it help if I talked to them?” he offered, twining his metal fingers with Keith’s.

Again, Keith sighed. “Shiro, I’m not a child. I can’t… I shouldn’t need you to be my emotional proxy.”

He’d do it, though. In a heartbeat, with Keith’s permission. He would. “Okay.”

They stayed that way for a while, fingers interlocked, Keith a warm, pleasant weight against him. This was them, present and silent.

“You wanna go back in?”

Keith let his hand go, leaning forward, away, and shook his head. “Just… I need a minute. I won’t be long.”

Shiro understood Keith’s brand of dismissal, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “Okay. I’ll save you some dessert, all right?” he said, putting as much mirth in his voice as he could, dropping another kiss into Keith’s hair. He got a hum in return, and he would make do with that.

He walked away, one last look over his shoulder at the lonely figure of the Red Paladin, and wished to the stars that he would make himself understood, that please, someone, _anyone_ , let Keith be understood.

 

 

 

When Keith didn’t return after nearly an hour, Shiro went back out, worried. Too many things had happened to each of them, together and separately, that he couldn’t not assume that something had gone terribly wrong. The dinner had come to an end, a small cup of dessert still sat untouched at Keith’s seat, and Shiro couldn’t wait anymore. He knew his sense of urgency was unsettling: the other Paladins followed him, this time.

They came to the courtyard. To the bench. Red-accented vambraces and rerebraces lay on the ground and on the bench. Boots, greaves, knee guards and cuisses sat in a small pile. The cuirass sat askew on the bench, as though suddenly abandoned. And it would have not seemed so strange, if not for the fact that Keith’s bodysuit was still intact, tucked into all the right places inside the pieces of armour.

It was as if Keith had ghosted out from inside his Paladin gear.

“Guys?” Hunk ventured, wringing his hands. “This is weird, right? Like, Keith is _flexible_ but even he can’t get out of his armour like that, right? Unless he learned to turn into smoke? Can Galra _do_ that?”

Pidge punched an unarmoured spot on Hunk’s arm. “ _Quiet!_ What’s the matter with you…” They were pretty sure the Zerestri, being empaths, had already worked out that one of the humans wasn’t entirely human, that he was part Galra, and for most, that would have been an issue. While nothing had come of it this time, the Paladins had simply made it a habit to not bring it up unless asked by their hosts, after enough uncomfortable encounters made them wary.

Shiro swallowed down his panic. The grounds were secure. No one could have got in and out without the Empress’s guards knowing. The courtyard was walled, sheltered. Keith was good, but even he couldn’t simply _vanish_. Without his clothes. It made no sense.

“Keith?”

There was a giggle.

Followed by a small blur and a mop of black hair moving at top speed, a high-pitched squeal of, “KASHI!” slamming into Shiro’s shins.

Shiro looked down, and looking up — and up, and _up_ — at him, from under silky black bangs, were a pair of violet eyes, a tiny mouth split in an enormous smile. Another giggle spilled forth from the tiny mouth, and insane though it was, there was no denying it.

“… _Keith?_ ”

Those eyes _smiled_ , bright as stars, before the face tipped down and buried itself into the meat of Shiro’s thighs, hugging his knees tight with tiny hands. “ _Kashi_.”

Lance peered around Shiro’s legs, only to squawk, “Holy cheese _he’s naked!_ ”

 

 

 

“I don’t understand,” Shiro said, for what felt like the twelfth time.

In his lap lay a sleeping… _child_ , bundled up in Coran’s jacket, pale skin perfect and familiar, black hair mussed and baby soft — he tried not to dwell on the word _‘baby’_ — who called him ‘Kashi,’ and there was nothing in his mind telling him that it _wasn’t_ Keith. A cursory examination by Coran told them that the child in question was perfectly healthy, had all his baby teeth — there was that word again, _‘baby’_ — and all his fingers and toes accounted for, and was somewhere between two and three years old.

Allura looked on helplessly between the sleeping child, Shiro, and the Empress, who seemed as bewildered as they were. “Empress Lorai, are you certain there was nothing in the food or drink, perhaps, that might have affected Keith?”

The Empress shook her head, looking down at her hands as though she was entirely to blame. “I am certain. We had already sensed that your Red Paladin was part Galra, and had taken that into account. More besides, the Galra have taken great pains these last centuries destroying any food or plant matter that could be a danger to them, so as to not be used against them.”

Lance and Pidge entered the room then, Lance having bundled all of Keith’s armour into a bag. “None of the armour is missing, so that’s something, I guess.” They all knew Keith had left his Marmora blade back in the Castle, as he tended to for first diplomatic meetings. “And I checked the perimeter again, and all’s clear.”

It was then that Pidge held up a cup, of polished stone and beautifully shaped into an almost-sphere with a flat bottom. “I found this, though, not far from the bench. Looked like it might have rolled away from him? There’s still some liquid inside it but —”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence, because the Empress’s eyes went absolutely wide before she snapped her head around to her left. “MOTHER.”

Everyone else’s heads whipped towards the Empress Dowager, who sighed before folding her arms and pouting. “I was only trying to help.”

Empress Lorai dropped her head into her fine-boned hands. “Oh Mother, we’ve talked about this…”

“But he is so _lonely_ , darling,” the Empress Dowager continued, sounding more and more unrepentant as she went on. “Walking around with his emotions all in knots like that. I just thought maybe a little something would help him open up. So he wouldn’t feel the need to hide so much.” She took the cup from Pidge’s hands, examining it as though it was the one at fault. “It was just my normal brew. I just can’t understand _why_ —”

“You know _perfectly well_ why it turned out like this!” Empress Lorai snapped, eyes ablaze and fists clenched tight, before letting out a small cough and schooling herself back into the ruler of an entire planet, and not the frustrated, long-suffering daughter of a well-meaning old woman. She straightened her back, relaxed her hands, and took a long, deep breath. “Princess Allura, Paladins of Voltron: I’m afraid I must apologize. It would seem my mother has much to do with your predicament with the Red Paladin.”

Four humans and two Alteans looked from the Empress Dowager to the sleeping bundle in Shiro’s lap. Keith fidgeted, a thumb sliding over his curled fingers, but stayed asleep, nuzzling deeper into Shiro’s middle. As one, they all looked up again back at the Empress.

“Please explain, Your Majesty,” Shiro said, tired and awed and confused.

“The Zerestri, my people, are empaths, and so we are very aware and sensitive to emotional states. It is the particular nature of our quintessence. It is why we are renowned as healers and diplomats, and it is often how we solve our conflicts and maintain the balance of our environment, by being open enough to understand even when things cannot be expressed. Some of our most accomplished healers are capable of mixing potions infused with our power that allows one to express what they cannot.”

“What’s wrong with tequila?” Lance asked in a whisper to Hunk, but promptly got a pointy elbow in his ribs from Pidge.

Shiro was glad for that. He was going to cuff him upside the head like he normally would, but there was a sleeping child — _boyfriend, oh my god it’s my_ boyfriend — in his lap that he didn’t want to disturb.

“Unfortunately,” Empress Lorai went on, “while my mother was once the most skilled of our healers, certainly there is not one presently who hasn’t been trained by her, her powers have since waned, which means her potions can be… unpredictable.”

“Oh pish,” the Empress Dowager muttered from her corner. Shiro saw the corner of Empress Lorai's eye twitch, and he knew that feeling very well.

Allura ignored the comment. “Unpredictable, yet powerful enough to turn one of my Paladins into a child?”

“A child has no inhibitions!” the Empress Dowager said archly. “Granted, it’s not _quite_ what I meant but —”

“How long will this last, Empress Lorai?” Allura cut in, a glare in the older woman’s direction silencing her straightaway.

In answer, the Empress swept the cup from her mother and tucked it into her sleeve. “I will have to examine any sample of my mother’s work I can get off this vessel to know for certain. Our potions tend to only last a few days, but if this one was capable of reducing your Paladin as such, it may be longer. I will set to work as soon as possible. Until then, please consider my home as your own.”

The Voltron contingent voiced their thanks, but still heard a further muttering of, “Good luck with that. You were never very good at potion-mixing, Lorai.”

They further ignored the sharp hiss of, “ _Mother_ ,” as their royal hosts swept out of the room.

Coran was the first to stand. “Well. I suppose I should head back to the Castle, see what I can find for our little Number Four. He’ll need clothes, somewhere to sleep. Hunk, perhaps you can help me with some food prep? It’s been a while since I’ve had a wee one to prepare for!”

“Oh, oh yeah! I made loads of stuff for my baby nieces and nephews! No problem!”

Lance got up as well, hoisting the bag containing Keith’s armour with a wicked grin on his face. “Hey, I’m coming with. If there are clothes to be made, this’ll be the only time we’ll get to dress Keith in something stupid. Onesies, ahoy!”

Pidge peered down at Keith, taking a long look before she swept a gentle hand through his bangs. “I’ll take perimeter check, Shiro.”

Absently, Shiro nodded. “Thanks, Pidge.” Because it was meant to be his turn. He was going to sneak Keith into Black with him, so that after the check they could find somewhere quiet together. He’d hoped they could talk. At least share a cuddle under the stars. 

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Shiro looked up at Allura’s concerned face, though her eyes were firmly set on Keith. “Are you all right, Shiro?”

“I…” He had no idea. Keith was all right. Keith was safe. But.

Allura sighed and stood, collecting Shiro’s helm for him. “Come now. The best we can do is get some rest. I’m beginning to feel as tired as our little one.”

Shiro had to think for a moment before he scooped up the toddler in his arms and leaned him against his chest, Keith’s little head resting in the crook of his neck. There was a little mumble, but nothing more and he was a soft, settled weight in his arms.

As they walked back to the Castle, Shiro glanced a time or two at the sleeping child, a cold, quiet gap opening inside of him. He looked like Keith. He smelled like Keith. He even _felt_ like Keith, despite his diminished size.

But already, he was missing Keith.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it inevitable that when you're in the VLD fandom, you write a de-ageing fic? Because here we are. 
> 
> Largely a response to [Keith's vlog](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YekC99bDMtU), and inspired by [alisayamin's amazing fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11695548/chapters/26331867), I wanted to explore a Keith with no walls, no inhibitions. Who he might have been if his life had been different. Why he's the way he is, and how the others might come to understand him better. 
> 
> It's okay, Keith. Shiro loves you, baby. Literally.


	2. Uh-huh

Shiro blinked awake when his searching hand failed to find a warm body beside him, and the memory of the night before came back in bits and pieces, reminding him to feel bewildered at everything. But before bewilderment, there was sadness. They’d only recently begun sharing a bedroom, Allura pointing them towards slightly larger quarters a hallway down from their old rooms once it was clear that they’d become inseparable. Shiro was especially loathe to go a night’s rest without knowing Keith was safe and well after those tense few weeks.

It was stupid, because he was a grown man who’d been content with his own space and his own bed for so much of his life. For a year, all he’d had was a cold, windowless cell. But the last month of waking up to Keith lying next to him had utterly ruined him, and now he felt adrift, unsure of how to be.

He sighed, turned over to the edge of the bed, to see a small dinosaur peering at him, eyes smiling brightly in the semi-dark.

Shiro attempted to restart his brain at the sight of the toddler version of his boyfriend in what looked like a dinosaur onesie, though the hood was clearly too big and had slipped off to hang against his back. _Adorable_ wasn’t enough of a word for it. All he managed was, “Hi.”

A toothy grin was the response he got. “Hello, Kashi.”

“You’re a dinosaur,” Shiro said, and then mentally slapped himself.

“Uh-huh!”

Keith’s smile was infectious, and Shiro found himself helpless to stop the upward curve of his own lips. This was a side of Keith he thought he knew, but magnified. The Keith he knew was content, a quiet flame in a glass lantern. This Keith was a tiny sun, exuding happiness like a solar flare. His smile was utterly radiant and generous, but Shiro knew that as an adult, those radiant smiles were softer, more private. Rarer. Only for him.

God, he missed him.

A small hand came up and patted his arm — his Galra arm, completely fearlessly — and his mouth flattened into a serious line. “Up time. Hunk said bek-fus.”

Shiro pulled himself up and set his feet on the floor, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “He did, did he? Is that how you got in here? Hunk sent you?”

There was another enthusiastic “Uh-huh” with vigorous nodding, before he said, “Hunk said up time for Kashi. We have pancakes.”

Whatever he thought having a child version of Keith around would be like, this wasn’t what he expected. Keith babbled while Shiro got himself ready. If he wasn’t actually talking, he was moving around and humming or murmuring to himself, like he’s testing out sounds and words. At one point he’d stepped backwards and tripped over the tail of his onesie, tumbling onto his behind, but all he did was laugh, said, “Tail,” and decided to hug the offending appendage to himself. And when Shiro was dressed, he’d reached out again for the Galra hand and pulled him towards the door.

Shiro imagined a lot of strange things happening to him since the beginning of this crazy adventure. Some had come to pass, some were perhaps too strange but not outside the realms of possibility.

He never imagined he’d be walking to breakfast hand-in-hand with a skipping blue dinosaur.

 

 

  
“So what do you think the deal is?” Pidge asked from behind her stack of pancakes. They were all watching Keith eat: he picked up cut-up pieces of pancake carefully in his hand, dipped them in Hunk’s best approximation of syrup, before shoving them into his mouth. “I mean, do you think he’s actually… regressed to two-and-a-half, or is it something weirder?”

Hunk cut up more pancakes to slide onto Keith’s plate. “I dunno. He knows all our names, and he knew where everything was in the kitchen. He knew how to find our rooms — man, Coran freaked out so bad when he got to the infirmary and found him gone, we gotta watch out for that — so like, he’s obviously _our_ Keith. As in, Red Paladin, grown-up Keith.”

“Huh,” Pidge mumbled around full mouth. “So he’s got Keith’s memories, but he’s not… _acting_ like Keith. I mean…”

As if to make a point, Keith held a piece of pancake out to Hunk, and when Hunk snatched it out of his hand with his teeth and a nonsense-sounding “AAA-OM,” Keith squealed and clapped his hands.

“Well, the Empress Dowager did say something about children not having inhibitions?” Hunk offered as he chewed. “Which means, what? That Keith has no filter right now?”

Pidge snorted at that. “I don’t think Keith ever had a filter to start with.”

Shiro hummed at that, even though he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Because Keith was blunt, and often spoke before finding the best way to say what he meant. That’s what the others usually meant by Keith not having a filter. But Keith also _didn’t_ speak, held back so much. The _‘I love you’_ that had so reverently been bestowed upon him not so long ago was hard-earned and hard-won, and had cost Keith a great deal emotionally.

He was pulled out of his musings by a grumbling nearby. Lance had mostly ignored his breakfast and sat with his arms folded, muttering darkly under his breath, glaring at the miniature Red Paladin. He chuckled, shook his head. “C’mon, Lance. You got what you wanted. You put him in a ridiculous onesie. What’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Lance growled, slamming his hand on the table, “is that he’s… he’s…” He let out a pained sort of groan before dropping his head onto the dining table. “HE’S CUTE, okay? Stinking _CUTE_. Look at him! I wanted blackmail material but _this?_ This would get him all the girls! My mom put me in a Wookie costume when I was three and I looked like a _rabid animal!_ Him? He’s quiznakking CUTE and it’s not _FAIR_ and I’m just… UGH.” He pushed himself away from the table, out of his chair, and stomped towards the door. “I can’t stand it. I’m outta here.”

Keith, unaware of this drama, cheerfully waved and said, “Bye-bye, Lans!”

Lance screamed.

Pidge eventually excused herself to head back to her workshop, leaving Hunk and Shiro with the toddler. At some point, Keith said, “Okay. Down now, please,” indicated he was finished, and Hunk helped him down his padded seat.

“Oh hey, hang on, you’re all sticky!”

Shiro managed to grab hold of him before he made a break for the door, and Hunk slid him a pack of wet wipes. He raised an eyebrow, but then didn’t really question it: Hunk had thought of everything. There was a small stock of wet wipes now, as well as toddler pull-up diapers because “The Castle is huge and he’s like, half his normal size. He’ll never get to a bathroom in time,” some clothes, and even a few stuffed toys. “Hey, c’mere, baby. You’ve got syrup all over you.” Keith, though giggly, stayed perfectly still while Shiro went through three wipes to get his hands and face sticky-free. “There. Now where are you going?”

“Pij,” he said, an unfamiliar brightness in his voice. “She has puzzles for me. She said.”

“Okay. You know where you’re going?”

Another explosive “Uh-huh!” sounded off before Keith threw himself at Shiro, wrapped his little arms around his neck. “Thankoo, Kashi. Love you.” With that he planted a wet, messy kiss on Shiro’s cheek, let himself down and scurried off to find the Green Paladin. Twenty seconds passed before he reappeared and ran headlong into Hunk, hugging him tightly, too, saying thank you for the pancakes. Then he was gone again.

It took a minute for the peace to sink in, Shiro still blinking after the… _ridiculous_ amount of affection he’d just received. Hunk let out a low laugh, shrugging and shaking his head. “Man, okay. It’s kinda weird and all, but it’s… nice seeing Keith so happy. Like he’s just himself.” Shiro turned to look at the Yellow Paladin when he suddenly went quiet, staring at his hands, then at the little plate with cut-up pieces of pancake. “Was he ever… like that, Shiro? I mean, he’s so different when you think about Big Keith. Little Keith is all open and huggy and happy and… is Keith happy? Our Keith?”

That gave Shiro pause, and he let his gaze stray back to the doorway, as if waiting for Keith to come back in. “No,” he said, a heavy breath gusting out of him. “He’s… he’s been through a lot. It’ll take time.”

Hunk hummed, moving around to collect the plates. “I guess. Maybe it’ll take less time if we hugged him more? Little Keith seems to really like that. Doesn’t even have to ask, really…”

Shiro let Hunk ramble on, about how long ago since they last heard Keith laugh, the last time he smiled, the last time he seemed content instead of haunted and tired. The last time he ate properly, when Little Keith was happy to devour whatever was on his plate and more.

Because there was a lot that Shiro knew about Keith, a lot of things that he’d promised to not divulge under any circumstances, because Keith had his pride and his strength and he didn’t want anyone’s pity or for anyone to doubt that strength. And seeing Keith as a child — bright, happy, curious, loving — made everything that he knew seem all the darker, all the harder, all the more painful.

 

 

  
For a kid, Keith was incredibly careful.

There was a very familiar crease between his eyebrows, and the tip of his tongue was sticking out, as Pidge watched him attached the spherical magnets and metal bars together, trying to build a stable structure. She’d given him the collection of magnets and bars, and then laid out simple patterns for him to follow and build. He’d got through the first two, proudly chirping for her and showing them off, and she acknowledged him and set him the next pattern. She wasn’t all that great with kids, but Keith was easy because he was still Keith, just… child-like.

She’d seen him work as an adult, when he worked on the mechanics with Hunk. He had to be a more than decent mechanic, judging by the hoverbike he had back on Earth, and according to his reputation knew fighter jet engines like the back of his hand. She wondered where that had come from, and watching Little Keith work on a geodesic dome structure, it made her a little sad.

Of course Little Keith had pouted and made frustrated sounds when he realized there was nothing he could do with his small, chubby hands. That was why she quickly engineered the magnetic spheres and blocks. Almost immediately the adult in the toddler vanished and there was nothing but childish wonder at the new toy. Did he have toys as a kid? What _did_ he have as a kid? _Who_ did he have? Her parents had fed her and her brother’s voracious appetites for building things and for knowledge. Who’d fed Keith’s, when it was so clear he was like that, too?

Pidge knew she could just hack, like she always did if she needed answers. But somehow that felt wrong, this time. Keith never talked about his family, if he had one at all. All they knew at this point was that his mother was Galra, and almost nothing about his father. Whoever his parents had been, all they knew about them was what was in front of them, in the dark hair, the strange eyes, that almost supernatural instinct. Even his accent gave them nothing.

A clattering noise and a gasp pulled her out of her thoughts, and there sat Keith, his structure in disarray, having collapsed at a wrong placement or something, and he looked… _terrified_. Not disappointed, or distraught, as a kid would if their block tower had fallen over when they hadn’t been ready for it.

Terrified.

His little hands shook, eyes wide and wet with unshed tears, tiny hiccups escaping him that he was desperately trying to hide. It got worse when he realized she’d noticed, and he started shaking his head. “I sorry… Sorry. I broke it… I didn’t… I didn’t…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Pidge said, minding the pitch of her voice. She got up from her spot and went up to him, slowing her movement when she saw him flinch. “It’s okay, Keith. You just made a little mistake. We can fix it.”

He was running his thumb over his fist, over and over, still shaking his head. “No… no, no. I did wrong. I sorry. Please…”

 _Please?_ Where did _please_ come into this?

She crouched in front of him, collecting one of the bars and, gently prying his fist open, put it into his hand. She held it with both of hers, rubbing it soothingly. Still, it shook in her hold. “It’s okay. Here, we’ll look at it together and see what’s up, okay? You did great with the first two, right? So we can figure this one out, you and me.”

The hand in hers stopped shaking, but she could feel that thumb try to rub up and down his fist again. A nervous habit. Something that soothed him, anchored him, maybe, when he was anxious.

Except… Keith always did it.

She thought of all the times she’d stood beside him at the holoscreens, explaining recent developments to him, how within his folded arms, there was always a fist, and a thumb caressing it, up and down, up and down, restless. When he was thinking. When he was strategizing with Lance. When he was quiet. When Shiro was gone.

Little Keith sniffled, then tipped his head up, a little braver than a moment ago. “It’s okay?”

Pidge nodded, smiled. “Of course. You’re allowed to get things wrong. No one expects you to be perfect, Keith. You learn more when you have to fix it.”

He seemed to think about it, then nodded, and reached for the other fallen pieces of his puzzle.

 

 

  
When he finally caught Pidge’s eye, and they looked at each other, Shiro knew she had questions: he could see them all over her face. He’d watched the entire thing, from the moment the puzzle fell apart to this one, with Keith muttering quietly to himself again as he made another attempt under Pidge’s patient instruction.

Shiro shook his head at her, but pointedly turned his gaze to Keith, then back at her, mouthing, _“Thank you.”_

Pidge’s eyes softened then, and she nodded back, before turning her attention back to the toddler at her knees.

Shiro ran a hand over his face, sighing, feeling the weight of two lonelinesses in his heart.

This was going to be so, very, hard.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, remember in Keith's vlog, when he says, "I guess I have some walls up," and he closes his eyes? Watch his hand. That is the gesture I'm referring to. 
> 
> The thing is, I know that gesture very well. It's in my own hand.


	3. Okay

By the third day of having Little Keith around, a strange, uncomfortable understanding grew between the Paladins.

It was exactly as the Empress Dowager had said: Little Keith had no inhibitions, just like a child. He expressed exactly what he felt, parsed and understood things without the usual careful filtering his adult self would use. He smiled and laughed easily, painfully so, but when he wasn’t happy, the depths of what they didn’t know about Keith seemed to grow.

Shiro and Allura had been summoned back to Empress Lorai’s palace, for further updates on what she’d discovered of her mother’s potion. Pidge was in her workshop and Lance had just come back from patrol when Hunk couldn’t work out what was bothering him quite so much. The niggling feeling hadn’t left him since earlier that afternoon, when they’d put Keith down for a nap just before lunch…

“Oh my gosh!”

Lance nearly smacked himself with his vambrace as he pulled it off his wrist. “ _What?_ Geez, you scared the quiznak outta me, what?!”

“Keith hasn’t had lunch! Where is he?”

“Dude, _I_ haven’t had lunch.”

Hunk pulled up a screen, trying to locate the Red Paladin writ small. “Yeah, but you’re an adult! You can fix your own lunch! You can reach the cupboards and stuff! Keith _can’t!_ I mean, not right now he can’t because he's a toddler and barely two foot tall and _why has no one checked on him?_ ” The screen blipped, and Hunk threw himself out of his seat. “He’s in Red’s hangar. I’m gonna go get him.”

Keith was sitting in front of Red, babbling quietly, gesturing every so often with his hands. Having given up on dressing him up in any more cute onesies, Lance had a little red jumpsuit made for him, with white trim and little white boots to match. The toddler looked quite sweet, sitting there talking to a giant sentient robot lion, but he also looked tired. Hungry.

“Hey, little buddy,” Hunk called, not so loud as to startle him. “You doing okay?”

Keith turned, then a smile bloomed on his face before waving. “Yeah! Talking to Red. She’s nice.”

“Yeah?” Hunk settled himself down next to Keith, pulling the toddler into his lap. “Well, of course she is. She’s your lion.”

“She says she miss me,” Keith said, worrying his fist with his thumb. They’d all caught on to that little tell by now. “But I’m right here!” he said, tipping his head back to make sure Hunk can see him.

Hunk chuckled, ruffling the child’s hair with a large hand. “Yeah, but you can’t fly her right now. You’re too little. She misses that. But you’ll get to soon, okay?”

Keith sighed, a loud huffing thing that was almost comedic considering the size of the body it came from. “Yeah. I miss her, too. Feel safe with her.”

That set a few alarm bells ringing in Hunk’s head. He didn’t like the way Keith had said that. “Well, you feel safe with us, right?”

There was a long pause where there shouldn’t be.

“Keith?”

The little fist clenched harder, the thumb rubbing more insistently. “Red ask for me. So she keep me, right? She won’ go ‘way?”

 _And you think we will? Because you think we didn’t ask for you?_ “No, she’s not going anywhere, little buddy,” Hunk said around a lump in his throat. “Now, I don’t think you’ve had any lunch yet. You hungry?”

Without looking up, Keith nodded.

“Have you been hungry for a while?”

Slowly, another nod.

“Why didn’t you say so? You could have found me, or Pidge, or Coran. We could have got you something.” When this time, there was no nod and no answer, Hunk picked Keith up, turned him around so he would face him. He kept his hands gentle on the boy, peered steadily into uncertain eyes.

“Listen, Keith. You should never be scared of asking for something you need, okay? If you want something to eat, or a juice box, or a cuddle. Doesn’t matter what it is, but always know you can ask, okay? Do you understand?”

The toddler chewed his lower lip for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay. Good.” With that Hunk stood up, taking Keith with him, flipping him upside down to make him squeal and giggle before setting him on his shoulders. “Now. What do you wanna eat? I think we still have some soup leftover, and those crackers you like. How’s that sound?”

Keith made a happy sound, holding on firmly to Hunk’s headband. “I like soup. Yes, please. Okay.”

“You got it, kiddo.” _That, and anything else you could ever ask for._

 

 

  
It was rare for her to let anyone else into this room, other than Coran, who knew to find her there when all other avenues were exhausted, but she let him run around, because she was sure it was unhealthy for a small child to not play in open fields and be able to look up at some description of sky. Here at least, the grass felt real, and he could pick the flowers and smell them and roll and fall in the gentle dips of the field.

Keith’s childish laughter made her heart swell, and she wondered if this was how her father had felt, when he’d let her play here all those thousands of years ago.

Allura was brought out of her reverie when little feet came running up to her, a delighted squeal of “Lura!” making her smile. Keith bundled into her, in his hands a little bouquet of juniberry blossoms. “See? They pretty, like you.”

Amazing. A toddler was making her blush. Ridiculous. “Goodness. Well. Are those for me, then?” she asked, indicating the bouquet.

“Uh-huh!” She liked hearing whenever he said that, with that vigorous nod of his head. “I pick them for you.”

She took the flowers from his outstretched hands, carefully, making sure he could see that she thought them fragile and precious. “Thank you, Keith. That’s very sweet of you.” She tucked them into her lap, just as Keith flopped down in front of her, leaning back into her folded legs on the grass.

Everyone had grown more open in their affection for Little Keith. Little Keith loved hugs, loved being carried and tossed into the air and caught again — Hunk and Shiro were his favourites for that — and loved finding a spot anywhere against anyone to snuggle up against. Any one of them would be minding their own business before a small, warm lump settled nearby and eventually fell asleep. The mice were ecstatic to have a new nap buddy.

So there she sat, enjoying the view of her memory of Altea, aforementioned small, warm lump resting against her. He was fussing with a blade of grass, while she ran a hand through his hair, revelling in the closeness that she could never have with the Red Paladin otherwise. They’d long since mended their bond after the Trial of Marmora, and there were days where she still felt shame at her behaviour then, more so as she recalled that Keith took her punishment in silence, never once arguing or fighting for his place.

Which struck her as odd after the fact, because when would Keith not ever fight? And since then she’d learned: Keith would always fight, but never for himself.

“Lura?”

“Yes, Keith?”

“Do you miss your Papa?”

Allura felt her breath catch, having momentarily forgotten that this Keith did not hide in the way his adult counterpart would. He was so strange: he either expressed freely, hugely, curiously, or not at all. When it came to others, he was an open book, but when it came to his needs, he would keep silent. Everyone had been upset when Hunk told them that the child hadn’t fussed over not having been fed. He took what he was given gladly, but he never asked if he needed anything.

How much had Keith needed, that he’d never asked for?

Now he was asking, so now she would answer.

“Yes, very much,” she said, pulling him a little closer. She marvelled at how soft and chubby he was, when as an adult he was all lean, unrelenting hard lines. She guessed that all that softness went away, hidden from everyone but a few. Perhaps only Shiro. “I think of him often, even though it’s been a very long time.”

“Mmm,” said the toddler, hands still busy with grass, slowly tinging his palms green. “I miss my Papa.”

Suddenly she was frantic for Shiro. Shiro would know what to do with this. Shiro knew Keith best, but he wasn’t here, wouldn’t even know how to get here without her permission. Keith was speaking to her, so she resolved to do her best.

“I see. Do you remember your Papa?”

Keith shrugged, an absent, childish motion. “Little bit.”

“What do you remember?”

“Warm. Strong,” he said, certain. Then: “Laughed a lot. He had pretty eyes.”

A child’s description of a father crossed space, time, species. They were the same words Allura would have used to remember her own father. They were words that shaped a man who loved his child, undoubtedly and unreservedly, who was adoration and security and all things good and safe. “He sounds lovely, Keith.”

He nodded, and then his shoulders bounced with a hiccup. Allura was quick: she moved her bouquet out of her lap and scooped him into her arms, unsurprised when she felt little hands fist into the fabric of her dress, face pressed against her collarbone. He made no sound, another quirk they didn’t understand. Keith cried quietly, in tiny hiccups and breaths, as if his voice would tear the world apart and take him with it.

She supposed one time, perhaps more than once, it had.

She didn’t shush him, just held him as he quaked in her arms, brushing a hand through his hair. Eventually, she said, “Why don’t we sit here together, and think of our Papas, hmm? We can keep each other company, so even if we feel sad, we’re together.”

The very quiet “Okay” she received was as great as any victory.

 

 

  
Three more days, at least. Three more days before he might get his boyfriend back.

At least, Shiro was thankful that Keith was otherwise healthy, without any ill or adverse effects. Much of the toll, emotionally, was on the rest of them, because they were learning far more than they could cope with, himself included.

Keith had his first meltdown when he came looking for Shiro in the locker rooms next to the training deck. He called for Shiro, and Shiro replied, asked him to _wait just a sec, I’ll be out in a minute, okay?_ And he came out of the shower, in loose sweatpants and a towel around his shoulders, still drying out his hair, stepping out into the hallway of the locker room when Keith _shrieked_.

It was a wordless, high sound, raw with terror that matched what was in his wide, wide eyes.

“Keith?! Keith, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Keith only kept screaming. Shiro had never seen so much fear in Keith’s eyes, etched on his face. He stepped backwards, tripping on himself and falling, and the shock made him scream again, harder, louder. It was so… _violent_ Shiro feared for Keith’s throat. His lungs. God, could a child _explode_ from something like this? Shiro tried to approach him but that seemed to frighten him even more, sending him shuffling away on his behind, unable to get back on to his feet. All the while, the screaming didn’t stop.

He didn’t understand. Keith had seen his arm before. He’d seen his scars. There was nothing new. He looked around himself frantically, briefly wondering if the rest of the Castle was _fucking deaf_ because Keith sounded like someone was trying to kill him. He saw nothing except…

Mirrors. He’d walked into the one spot where the mirrors met and bounced his image around. There were at least six of his reflections.

Oh god.

Lance tore into the room, bayard out, expecting to fight some horror that was scaring the life out of the toddler. “Shiro?! What’s going on? Why is he screaming?”

“Lance! Lance, shut off the lights!”

“What?”

“ _Do it!_ ”

In an instant the lights went out, plunging the room into a darkness only punctuated by the emergency lighting that ran along the floor and demarcated the walls. Keith yelped in alarm, but stopped screaming, reduced to high-pitched whimpers. That and the occasional drip from the recently used shower were the only sounds in the room.

Until: “Kashi?”

The voice was thin and torn, but questioning. Now that what terrified him was gone, Keith was focused back on the task beforehand. It made sense that the dark didn’t seem to worry him quite as much: Galra had excellent night vision, and Keith had inherited that.

Slowly, Shiro approached him, using the floor lights as a guide. Keith was there, an uncertain bundle on the floor, almost backed up against one of the benches. Off to one side, he could see the glow of Lance’s bayard, indicating that he was still there, silent and watching. “Yeah, baby. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“Kashi? It’s dark.” Tired. That little voice was tired, and more than a little confused. The tidal wave of emotions would catch up to him soon enough, and Shiro would need to be ready for it. He got his hands on Keith, and he remained both bewildered and charmed that his two hands were large enough to nearly close over Keith’s entire little ribcage, lifting him gently up against his chest. “Oh,” Keith said, frowning his bemusement. “There you are.”

“Yes. Here I am.” He felt little hands pat at his face, rasping against the stubble of his jaw, as he strode out of the locker room and into the lit hallway, Lance close behind. Keith seemed calmer, though tiny tremors still shook through him, aftershocks of his own scare, and his grip was more insistent than usual. Where Keith learned nonchalance so early in his life — or maybe this was adult Keith, thinking his nonchalance would be enough to distract them — was a question he would rather not have answered.

Lance followed them a ways towards Shiro’s joint room with Keith, staying slightly behind as if keeping guard. Finally, he asked, “Shiro, what happened in there?”

Shiro tipped his head aside: Keith was awake, his eyes were open, but he looked spaced out, face buried in his shoulder. He was silent, but he still trembled, and his fists were white-knuckled in the towel slung around his neck.

“He saw more than one of me,” he said, low, guilty.

The Blue Paladin froze, then moved to keep up. “Ah jeez.”

Shiro sighed, combing the fingers of his human hand through Keith’s thick hair. “I’m… I’m not sure if he’s okay.”

Lance paused again, thoughtful, before speeding up to overtake them. “Hang a tick.” When Shiro stopped, Lance peered around the Black Paladin’s shoulder, trying to get Keith’s attention. Sensing the sudden stillness, Keith poked his head up, but not by much. Lance could only see one violet eye.

“Hey, little buddy.”

Forever seemed to pass before Keith nodded wordlessly. Shiro tightened his hold on him in reassurance, as if the gesture could keep his heart from shattering in his chest.

“Had a bit of a scare, huh?” Lance went on, soft but cheerful. “Well you know what fixes that?”

Another forever, for a small shake of a small head.

“A milkshake!” Lance beamed. “Am I right? And you love strawberry, right?”

Shiro had to restrain the sharp intake of breath that threatened to break the moment when Keith nodded almost immediately. He felt the little body uncurl, head raised higher so he could interact with Lance better.

“How about, I go get Hunk to whip up some milkshakes for us, huh? Vanilla for me, mint chocolate chip for Shiro, and strawberry for you, and we have us a little milkshake party? How about that?”

Shiro was defeated, heart in a thousand shards when there came a very small, “Okay.”

It was a temporary fix, but at that point in time, Shiro felt like he owed Lance the world.

 

 

  
He’d been right about it being temporary.

Not two hours into sleep and Keith had woken up, little whines and dry sobs that Shiro couldn’t entirely placate. He didn’t have Lance’s easy way with small children, and he himself had been an only child. Little Keith trembled and clung and wouldn’t settle down; at a loss, he bundled Keith in a blanket, threw on a sweatshirt, and took the bundle of child out of the room, up to the observatory.

Their space.

How many times had one of them found the other here, lost in thought, letting doubt fester and ghosts overtake? How many times had one gone to the other with a hug, a quiet hand, a gentle _come back to bed, it’ll be okay?_ And here Shiro stood, doubted, missed his right-hand man, his lover, and he knew Keith wouldn’t come for him because Keith was curled in his arms, afraid and unsure and very, very tired.

Shiro rocked and swayed, pacing the room, humming and shushing and cajoling with little to no effect. Keith continued to fuss and whimper, desperate to sleep but still so very frightened.

It wasn’t how he’d planned it to go, but then, a lot of things that involved Keith didn’t pan out as he liked.

Shiro began to sing.

He remembered this song, from back at the Garrison. It had been on some cheesy compilation, or someone’s playlist, he couldn’t remember for sure, but he remembered hearing it at one of the end of term parties when everyone had begun slow-dancing to sappy ballads, remembered a particular line striking him just as he looked up and saw one Keith Kogane watching him from where he stood by a bookshelf, pretending to be invisible just as people preferred him to be.

Of course, he was never invisible to Shiro. 

_It hit me at the stroke of midnight._

Little Keith grew quiet, bar a single, gaping yawn, and his hold on Shiro loosened, head growing heavier. So Shiro kept going.

 _Never going back_  
_Not now when I can be the man_  
_I couldn’t be before_

 _I’m yours_  
_Now I really get what love is for_  
_It hit me at the stroke of midnight_  
_You give me a reason_  
_I didn’t know I was waiting for_  
_I’m yours…_

He wanted to find this song, somehow. Maybe ask Pidge or Lance to work out how to download it for him. He wanted to set up a projection of Earth’s constellations in this very room, beg Hunk to make a couple of little dessert cakes, the ones that Keith loved most. And he wanted to play this song, wanted Keith in his arms, wanted to dance with him under the stars of home and promise him everything was going to be all right and that no matter what happened, he was Keith’s.

 _Right when I least expected_  
_You set the room alight_  
_I’m yours…_

Keith was soft, warm, and quiet against his chest, heavy on his shoulder. He was asleep at last, and the moment ought to be over. Shiro should be tucking Keith back into bed, and head back to bed himself. But he found himself still swaying, still whispering the last lyric, over and over again, because in the absence of his strong, capable, defiant Keith, replaced with one that was fretful, fragile, and utterly reliant on him…

Shiro curled his hand in Keith’s hair, breathed in the scent that was both of baby and _his baby_ , and he knew, now, that it was more than love.

He wanted Keith for the rest of his life.

_I’m yours._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in question is Jack Savoretti's [I'm Yours](https://youtu.be/cSPOvHZ16Oo). I'm a fan of the heartfelt, sentimental ballad, and I was listening to this album when the same line that struck Shiro, struck me.
> 
> Also, Keith's outfit? Yup. Imagine Toddler Keith wearing 80s Keith's jumpsuit. Cute, right?


	4. No

Lance hadn’t assumed that babysitting Keith would be so straightforward. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what to expect. The casual bickering wouldn’t be there, and even if it was, it felt too much like punching down: what asshole would pick a fight with a toddler? He maybe expected some degree of clinginess, because that was what he got from his niece, but Little Keith was fairly content to amuse himself unless affection was offered. And he only really clung to Shiro, for obvious reasons.

And the one Keith talked to most? Didn’t talk back. Well, not really. Clearly the Red Lion was still communicating with her Paladin, even if he was a toddler. Lance wondered what she made of that. The Lions all referred to them as their ‘cubs’, so what was it like to see a cub… well, even more of a cub?

What bothered Lance — and what had driven Shiro to distraction — was how there was so much going on under that mop of black hair that Keith had said nothing about. He seemed relieved above all things when they resolved Project Kuron, with all that that entailed, and the hurt that came after. He could understand why Shiro and Keith finally began their relationship, but he could also see why Keith was still so uneasy and reluctant, even though there was no question that he loved Shiro more than anything in existence.

It was in Keith’s careful, distrustful nature to step back and shore up the walls after hurt. Everyone could see he was trying not to, but Lance supposed old habits were hard to kill when they’re forced on you.

He still couldn’t shake Little Keith’s screaming from the locker room incident. Red Paladin Keith had fought through that. They still didn’t understand how Keith could tell the two Black Paladins apart — maybe it was the same thing that led him to Blue without being chosen by her, led him to Red when she first outright rejected him, gave him eyes on the back of his head and what may as well be a sixth sense — but without that, they might not have Shiro at all.

But small, helpless, child Keith? That must have been a nightmare come to life. Which one was the man he loved and trusted, and which one could hurt him when he couldn’t, wouldn’t, fight back?

And yet, here was Little Keith, sitting quietly in the observatory, going through an Earth star map, as if yesterday hadn’t happened. Pidge had designed a little game where he had to trace out the constellations on the map, and he got a little gold star for each one he got right. Lance had no idea what Keith would get if he got all the gold stars, but that didn’t seem to bother the toddler in the slightest.

Adult Keith could hide all he liked. But Lance wasn’t keen on Little Keith hiding. It wasn’t right.

“How’s it going there, buddy?”

“I found Sco-pio!” he said, pointing at a lit-up set of stars. “That’s me.”

“Yeah? Well I’m a Leo. Can you show me that?”

Keith’s little hands moved the holoscreen across and pointed at a set of stars he’d already highlighted. “Here!”

Lance smiled. Keith was a pretty smart, sweet kid, when it came down to it. He asked him to show him all the other constellations he’d found, and even though he had trouble pronouncing some of them — he was still a toddler, even if he did have Keith’s adult mind somewhere in there — he pulled them up on the screen and named them confidently and proudly.

Guilt formed in Lance’s gut like a roiling ball of thorns.

Because he’d known that Keith was smart. Everyone had, back at the Garrison. Keith kept his head down and didn’t make friends easily, but he’d worked hard. If he wasn’t in the gym hitting a punching bag to death, he was in the library chewing on the end of his pencil like it had personally offended him. If he wasn’t top of the academic board, he was in the top five easily, and even if his simulator scores were due to his freakish natural ability, his academic ones were all hard graft. He wasn’t a genius like Pidge, or a natural like Hunk. Everyone knew it.

But you had to hate on the one doing well. Those were the rules. Especially if he was a little strange and kept to himself. Extra points if he had the attention of the great Takashi Shirogane.

Seeing Keith as a toddler showed Lance that Keith really didn’t care about their rivalry. He’d probably had the habit of getting defensive forced on him. Just like back at the Garrison, he just wanted to be left alone to do as well as he can. Keith had never been out to hurt anyone, but everyone seemed out to hurt him.

Lance was going to have to take a good long hard look at himself at some point.

“Do you know all the moons of all the planets, kiddo?”

Keith looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. On adult Keith, it would have been a threat. On Little Keith? Utterly adorable. “D’uh,” he said, dry as sun-bleached bone. He turned back to his map, pulling up a planetary view, mumbling, “’M not stupid….”

 _Ouch_. Yeah. Lance was going to have to have a conversation with himself. Definitely.

“Yeah? How about we do them out of order?” Lance said, not quite a challenge, just an offering. “And we just do the biggest ones. How about that?”

The toddler frowned, but then gave a sharp nod. “I can do it.”

“Okay.” Lance moved the holoscreen around, stopping at a pale, icy-blue planet. “How about… Neptune? How many big ones does it have?”

“One,” Keith answered, lips pursed in thought. “Triton.”

“Do you know the moons of Mars?”

“Po-bos and… Dee-mos.”

He showed him Uranus, and Keith giggled. He flopped onto his side, waving his hands. “That one go sideways!”

And Lance thought this game was going pretty well. Keith seemed to enjoy the challenge. It made sense: if he wasn’t training, his downtime was spent reading. He seemed to really enjoy learning, and the harder, the better. All Keith seemed to do was push himself, and Lance had to wonder who it was all for. He had his parents and siblings to be proud of him, as did Hunk and Pidge. Was it Shiro? Was it _only_ Shiro? Wasn’t that… lonely?

Lance meant to slide the screen towards Jupiter so they could talk about the Big Red Spot, but his hand slipped, and it scrolled all the way to the edge of the solar system. It should have been a small, unnoticeable error.

It wasn’t.

“No.”

“What?” That one word sent a whipcrack of cold down his spine. There was something wrong. Something…

“No!”

Keith had that look on his face again. The one from the other day in the locker room. Pale, wide-eyed, full of unbridled terror, except there was something else there, too: anger. The kind of anger that shouldn’t fit in such a small face.

Lance looked back at the holoscreen, and there was the image of Pluto, mocking, taunting, its moons visible. Charon. Hydra. Nix. Styx.

Kerberos.

Shit.

“Keith, Keith, honey, it’s okay,” Lance stammered quickly, reaching for the child. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“NO!” Keith screeched, batting Lance’s hands away, trying to stand, trying to get away. “ _No!_ No it’s _not okay!_ ” Just like yesterday, his voice was high and raw, but anything but wordless. “It’s _not_ okay! It’s not! _It’s not!_ ”

Lance lunged for him, caught him, held him to his chest as best he could but for the first time, Keith fought back, fought to get away from the hug, from the comfort. He pushed, kicked, screamed, wild and desperate and Lance had to fight to not hurt him but god he wanted to just _hold him_. “Keith, please! It’s all right! It’s okay, I promise, nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s —”

But Keith kept pushing, landing blow after blow in tiny punches that could never hurt Lance but they did, they did. “LIAR!” he screamed, fat, hot, angry tears now rolling down his cheeks. “You’re lying! You’re _lying!_ It’s not okay! _It’s not okay!_ ”

Nothing Big Keith had ever said to him hurt as much as this did. Big Keith never had this tone, this sharp anger: always, his anger was barely contained, rounded off as if by a shield he put around it himself. This was daggers into his heart that no return volley of insult could imitate. It shocked him enough that his hold on Little Keith went loose, a fist caught the corner of his eye, and Lance dropped him, right onto the floor.

“Keith!”

Lance couldn’t tell if the toddler made a sound when he landed, because now he was outright wailing from a pain that went beyond physical. Little Keith pushed himself up from off the floor, got onto unsteady legs, and ran out of the room.

“Keith, wait, come back!”

By the time Lance got to the door, Keith was down the corridor, stumbling, getting up, crying his heart out the entire time, saying only one thing.

“ _Takashi!_ ”

Every call of that name felt like a crack in the world. Lance never heard anything like it, not from his siblings or his niece or nephew. It was a grown-up anguish described by the heart of a small child, and it made his eyes sting.

Keith fell to his hands and knees, and Lance caught up, but he couldn’t bring himself to come close. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the child, when Keith threw his head back and howled. “ _TAKASHI!_ ”

And Lance could see him. See Keith, alone in the empty desert, crying out to the stars who would not answer him, because his world had ended, and he had been left behind. Calling the one name that would not come home.

Shiro came skidding around the corner, eyes wild with panic. “Keith! Keith, _baby_ —” It seemed to take only seconds for Shiro to scoop the child up into his arms and hold him close. Keith didn’t fight back, but there didn’t seem much fight left in him. All his strength was channelled into crying and crying and crying and it was as if he couldn’t stop.

Things were happening that Lance was peripherally aware of. The others had arrived, either having heard Keith’s cries or Shiro had alerted them. Coran was asking Shiro what was wrong, but Shiro only shook his head, kept hushing and rocking and swaying.

He heard Pidge, sharp and clear: “Lance, what did you _do?_ ”

_“If there’s a pilot error anywhere, it’s Keith.”_

He’d been wrong. He’d been punching down the whole time.

 

 

  
Keith wouldn’t stop crying.

The wailing had stopped, but only because his voice had gone hoarse, and all that was left was wracking sobs interspersed with coughs and hiccups. Every so often, _“Kashi”_ could be heard, but the tears kept flowing.

Shiro paced their room, the lights low and his voice soft, but nothing seemed to work. Lance managed to stutter out what had happened, before something akin to guilt, or overwhelming sadness, silenced him, and in a way, Shiro wasn’t surprised that that would have caused this.

It was the ferocity of it that knocked him sideways.

“Keith,” he whispered, sitting down on the edge of their bed. He’d held him for nearly two hours now, and Keith only lost his voice twenty minutes ago. He’d wondered if it was possible to cry that hard for that long, but this was Keith. Keith had done things that were far more impossible. “Keith, sweetheart, please. _Please_.”

Keith coughed, wet tired sounds, but continued to whimper. His grip on Shiro’s vest had loosened, but he was fighting to keep his hold, as if letting go was final.

Shiro broke then, to know that even at his most vulnerable, Keith was so very strong.

“Why don’t you ever _say_ anything?” Shiro asked, the first of his own tears escaping. “Why do you just… sit there, and _hurt_ like this? I can’t… I can’t let you do this anymore, Keith. I can’t watch you in this much pain anymore.” He held Keith tighter, the little body shuddering in his arms, and how incredible, that that little body could shake his heart apart. “I love you. _I love you_ , you understand? And I know I’ve hurt you, god, I know all the ways I’ve hurt you, but I promised myself I’ll fix it, I’ll make it better. Just please, Keith, _please_. Let me in. Let me love you. I will do everything in this universe to make it stop hurting if you would just let me love you.”

_If you would just let yourself be loved._

Shiro let himself cry, let his own sorrow quake free, for everything he’d lost, everything they’d lost together, and all the pain they had yet to resolve. Not a day went by that Keith wasn’t there, reassuring and tender in his own way, soothing away Shiro’s own fears and insecurities, clinging to him during those difficult nights when the nightmares came. Always giving, never asking, when he needed and needed and needed more than any of them could understand.

He rocked them as one, gently comforting the child and himself, humming the song again softly between them. He missed Keith. He wanted him back, now more than ever, because they were going to fix this. They were going to talk, all of them, and work together, as a couple and as a family, so they could both heal. He didn’t want to wait anymore, didn’t want to let this be anymore. Keith needed him, and he was going to do everything to be there.

The room came to a muffled quiet.

“Keith?”

A cough, a faint whine, and a tight, rattling wheeze.

Shiro eased him down so he could lay Keith across his lap. His face was blotchy with dried tears and rumpled in a tight frown, one hand curled in a fist, the thumb worrying it. The child coughed again, and that awful rattling wheeze followed. Shiro ran a hand through Keith’s hair, and found it sweat-damp, and the skin of his cheek was burning hot.

“Oh no. Oh no, _no_. Keith.”

Not again.

Shiro cradled him back up against his chest and raced out of the room, moving as quickly as he could without jostling the bundle in his arms.

“Coran! _Coran!_ ”

 

 

  
_“What’s wrong with him?”_

_Mysa, the medic that Kolivan brought with him when Allura made the summons, shook her head. “It’s an uncommon Galra illness,” she said, looking up from her charts and adjusting the settings on the myriad of IVs attached to Keith’s right arm. The Red Paladin’s breathing was laboured, wet and juddering, and while he tended to run warmer than the others, his temperature was dangerously high._

_“How uncommon?” Allura asked, worry lining her features._

_“Uncommon enough that I am unsure of the outcome, especially with his hybrid nature,” she went on. “It is possible that a perfect storm can occur, when a Galra body is under an undue amount of stress, and it is undergoing change at the same time.”_

_Shiro looked up from where he held Keith’s free hand in his own, stroking the skin there in hopes of giving comfort. “Change? What do you mean?”_

_“I believe Mysa means that Keith is going through the final phase of Galra maturity, and that can be extremely taxing,” Coran said, taking note of the new readings after Mysa’s adjustments. “Is that right?”_

_The Blade medic nodded. “Normally that is enough for a full-blooded Galra, but Keith is of mixed parentage, and in Galra terms small for his age. I do not doubt his strength, but you must understand that this is a difficult enough thing when you’re full-blooded. And I must know: has there been any… physical stresses he’s been under? Or emotional upheavals?”_

_The Alteans and Shiro exchanged glances, and then all looked back at Keith, whose face crumpled minutely in discomfort as he murmured in his sleep._

_The list was long._

_Mysa didn’t need her answer. “I see. I will run another set of blood tests. He is weakened as is, and we don’t want any other infections at this time.” With swift proficiency she drew two vials of blood, and let Coran escort her back to the lab._

_“….Sh’ro..?”_

_Shiro reached up to push Keith’s hair back, trying his best to smile even as his grip on Keith’s hand grew tighter. “Hey, baby.” He was so hot to the touch, the fever dulling his eyes and flushing his skin even as it refused to break. “It’s okay. You need to rest. Go back to sleep.”_

_Keith drifted away again._

 

  
It had been only with great reluctance that Shiro left Keith’s side then, even though there was nothing he could do. They could only wait it out, and hope that their careful management of his vitals would see him through to the other side.

They’d had to induce a coma for four days. That had been the worst for Shiro. He’d been a wreck right up until the moment they were certain Keith’s temperature was on the decline, and slowly pulled him out of the coma, and only when Keith had awoken briefly with the tiniest smirk on his face that Shiro had let himself breathe, nearly weeping with relief.

“It’s just a fever, Shiro,” Coran said, putting his charts away.

“Are you certain?”

“A bad one, to be sure, but just a fever, nonetheless. Poor wee thing has had a heck of a day.”

Shiro wasn’t sure he could do the same relief release again, so soon. He simply dropped his head into his folded arms on the bed, where Keith lay resting. They’d bathed him down with warm water and dressed him in a loose t-shirt that went down to his knees so he could be more comfortable. Coran administered a shot — Shiro didn’t ask what it was for — and after a few cursory checks, pulled the blanket back up around the toddler.

“There. As long as he stays cool and hydrated, he should be back up to mischief in a day or so.” Shiro felt a hand fall on his shoulder, and he looked up in thanks. “Now then, Number One, shall I get you some bedding so you can get comfy here, or would you prefer —”

“I’ll take him,” Shiro said, standing quickly. “Back to my… our, room. I’ll… It’ll be more comfortable. For us both.”

Coran nodded, before turning towards a nearby cabinet. “Very good. Here, I’ll give you some of these drops for the tyke, a couple every four hours from now should help keep the fever down.”

“Thanks, Coran. For everything,” Shiro sighed, meaning every word as he tucked the bottle of drops into his pocket and burrito-ed Keith up in the blanket, and into his arms.

 

 

  
“You’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” Shiro muttered in the dark, carefully stroking Keith’s hair. It was as soft as it usually was, just so much finer, in the same way his skin had the same softness, just more so. Keith lay in a nest of pillows on their bed, as he had been since the morning Shiro had woken up to a small blue dinosaur, with more pillows barricading him in so he didn’t fall off the edge. He was fast asleep, breathing much more easily now, and though the flush was still high in his cheeks, his temperature was much calmer.

Shiro leaned over, brushing his lips against the baby-soft hair — and still, miraculously, under the smell of toddler was the clean scent of lightning and desert wind, of _his_ Keith. “I still love you. I’ll always love you. You’ll always be my baby, and that’s never, ever going to change.”

Keith snuffled in his sleep, and Shiro let himself laugh, before laying down beside him, watching him sleep.

 

 

  
Shiro had a sense it was morning, and he bolted upright.

He missed at least two doses of Keith’s drops.

“Keith!” He flipped a light on and rolled over, and —

Long, lithe lines of pale, bare skin greeted him. Strong, slender arms were wrapped around a pillow, one hand in a fist, the thumb worrying it, back and forth, back and forth. A thick mess of silky black hair fanned out on the pillow beneath his head, brushing against sharp, familiar cheekbones, tickling the tip of a stubborn nose. A murmur moved past his lips, and it was husky and low.

Keith. His Keith.

Shiro didn’t realize he was smiling until his face started to hurt. “Keith?” He reached out warily, hungrily. “Baby?”

A grumpy mumble, before violet eyes opened, tired and bleary — and were they still a little puffy from all that crying? — and a scratchy, “Shiro?” answered him.

Shiro didn’t wait. He laughed. He laughed and lunged at Keith and wrapped his arms around him.

“Takashi? What is… wait, why am I _naked?_ Did we —”

Shiro didn’t care to answer. He swept his hands up and down that strong, solid back, nuzzled the thick, messy hair, and kissed every bit of skin he could reach. “Keith,” he said, over and over. “Keith, Keith, my baby…”

He felt Keith slip his arms around him, hugging him back, and he could burst with how happy he was. Except he started laughing again when Keith said:

“Is that a _t-shirt_ around my leg?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was wrong about the chapter count. There will be one more, and then an epilogue. But hey, Shiro's got his baby back, and we now know that Shiro loves Keith.


	5. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for near-accidental death.

“We’re all in agreement, Keith. We want to do this for you.”

Keith tried to glare at Allura, but he knew it was for nothing. He hunched further into himself, shaking his head. “There’s nothing —! There’s nothing _to_ do, Allura. I’m fine now.”

“Except you’re not, Keith,” Shiro said from beside him, slipping his arm around his shoulders. “We all know this. And I think it’s time we talked about it.”

It took the better part of a day, but Keith slowly pieced together the last week, remembered everything that happened while he was a toddler. He was angry, once Shiro’s relief had washed away, that he was so transparent as a child, so _needy_ , even though he drank deep from all the love and hugs and comfort he received. He was still tired, and so confused, knowing he can’t ever change things back to the way they were.

And even if he could, it was clear that everyone else didn’t want that.

They were all gathered in the living area. Keith sat sandwiched between Shiro and Hunk, Pidge at his feet on some cushions. Lance was a little further away on Hunk’s side, and Allura and Coran stationed across from them all. It was nothing short of an intervention.

Hunk shifted beside him so he could face him, but Keith couldn’t bring himself to meet him. “Listen, Keith. I know it’s all been kinda weird and all, but… we’re really worried about you, dude.”

“Yeah, and we’re family, right?” Pidge chimed in, popping up on her knees so that she could put her hands over Keith’s own, feeling that restless thumb working over a fist under one of them. That hand, she held a little tighter. “You can talk to us, Keith. You trust us, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he snarled, without any bite at all, still not raising his head. It was so frustrating. They cared, they really did and he just couldn’t — “I just… it’s not…” He sucked in a long breath through his teeth, screwing his eyes shut. He wanted to tighten his fists but Pidge’s hands were there and he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ pull his hands out from under them. Without them and Shiro’s arm around him he thought he might fly apart. Already he could feel that choking sensation building.

Allura frowned, concerned. “Please, Keith. We only want to help. We know things have been difficult for you —”

“Not any more than it’s been for any of you!” he snapped, wanting to draw back into himself, but Pidge held fast, Shiro was a solid line across his back, and even Hunk radiated a warmth he couldn’t pull away from. “It’s not worth it. It’s not — I can’t — I c—”

There it was. It was happening.

“Keith?”

He lifted his head, opened his eyes, and there was something so tired in them that Pidge couldn’t call his name a second time. He swallowed, opened his mouth but nothing would come out. Took a breath, tried again, and only a choking sound made itself known. Another breath, another choke. He could feel the tears start to burn in his eyes, his hands shaking under Pidge’s touch.

This time it was Shiro who shifted, pulling his arm back and setting both his hands on his lap. Slowly, he raised them, one metal, one flesh, and said, “Keith.”

Keith turned to him, and Shiro waited a moment, before moving his hands in careful, measured gestures.

Keith’s eyes widened.

Coran and Allura shifted closer, to see what was happening. “Is… is Number One trying to cast a spell or something?”

When Shiro was done, he put his hands back down. Seconds passed, and Keith drew his hands out of Pidge’s hold, and made a series of gestures back.

“No,” Pidge said, marvelling at the sight. “It’s sign language.”

Where Shiro ‘spoke’ carefully, perhaps rusty thanks to trauma and his Galra hand, Keith’s hand movements were quick and exact. Once or twice, Shiro held a hand up, indicating that Keith slow down, and he obeyed. Another minute of exchanges went by, before Shiro looked around the room, and then back to Keith. “May I tell them, then?” he spoke and signed at the same time.

Keith slowly looked at his teammates, his friends, one by one. There was something profoundly lost in his expression, in the way his shoulders slackened, but he seemed calmer, and that was a relief to them all. Eventually, eyes on no one, he nodded, and kept his gaze down.

Shiro took a moment to reach out, pull Keith into a hug, letting the smaller man sag against him, before he let go.

“Keith and I, we already knew each other when one of the instructors at the Garrison recommended he try some counselling,” he began. He made sure to make eye contact with Lance when he said, “Not because of his temper, but due to a degree of self-neglect. He was working hard and doing well, but they’d started noticing he wasn’t eating, and he was losing weight, he didn’t open up to anyone when he was clearly distressed. Not even to me.”

Pidge immediately stood up and wedged herself between Keith and Hunk, wrapped her arms around Keith’s bicep and burying her face into his shoulder. They were the most similar, the Arms of Voltron, fierce, quick, and intelligent, and Keith was always protective of her. She wanted to protect him back.

Shiro smiled at the sight, but grimly pressed on. “But it didn’t help. He couldn’t talk about anything. Just like you saw. He’d try, and something… locks him up. The counsellor said it might had to do with his home life with one or more of the foster families he’d been with. She tried getting him to write stuff down, but he’d end up… tearing the pages up, or scratching out whole sections so nothing made sense. If we got him to type on a screen, he’d delete sentences halfway.

“So we tried sign language. I took an elective back at high school, and I happened to be the only student at the Garrison that year who knew it. We worked together with the counsellor and…” Shiro heaved a deep sigh. “That’s how I know what I know.”

“And you couldn’t tell us because he trusted you not to,” Hunk said, absently rubbing his hands together. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it. I mean, it wouldn’t be fair. Like, whatever it is, it’s only Keith’s to tell, right?”

“Exactly. And I’m sorry for that.”

Pidge looked up at Keith, tugged at his sleeve to get his attention. “Will you tell us now, Keith? It… It doesn’t have to be everything. Just, we wanna help.”

“Even if he does want to, we can’t all follow this… sign language,” Allura said. She was curious about it certainly, and it made Shiro and Keith’s relationship all the more remarkable, that even though they were almost always perfectly in sync, when they couldn’t be they still had a means to each other. “And it would defeat its purpose if we were to rely on Shiro to translate everything. It still would not truly be Keith’s words.”

“And I suppose using the mind-meld devices would be out of the question…” Coran offered, and was met with Keith’s look of utter horror and an uncharacteristic hitched whine. He looked like he was going to bolt. Quickly, Coran added, “No, no, no, too invasive. Quite right.”

Keith tried to speak again, but once more, his throat locked up. He wished he could explain why, just to ease the rattling in his chest. If only he could —

“Wait! Keith, gimme your gloves!”

Keith reflexively drew his hands back, even as Pidge grappled to get the gloves off his hands. “No, really, trust me! I know what to do. It’ll just take a few minutes, you’ll get them back, I promise.” At her earnestness, Keith slowly peeled the gloves off and handed them to her, and she sped out of the room, yelling about being right back.

In the brief quiet, Keith’s hands moved, forming words. Shiro slipped a hand to the nape of Keith’s neck, pulled him closer, kissed his forehead. He shook his head. “No,” he said. And then spoke and signed again. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Lance remained where he was, quiet, observing. After what had happened, no one expected him to say anything.

Pidge came barging back in, laptop under her arm. “Okay, here!” She tossed Keith’s gloves back to him; they were now covered in little green dots, up the fingers and in lines on the back of his hand. “Put them on. Everyone else, get your tablets out and sync up to the Castle network. Except you, Shiro. You gotta talk.”

Keith and Shiro looked at the each other, before shrugging. Keith tugged on his gloves, Pidge came to quickly check them over before running back to her laptop and typing furiously. Everyone else had their tablets out, waiting.

“Okay! Keith: try signing your name.”

He moved his hands, making the five gestures that shaped his name, and was met with a whoop. “It works! Look!”

There, on Pidge’s screen, was his name. K-E-I-T-H.

“Ooooh!” Hunk squealed. “You made motion-capture gloves! That’s awesome!”

Keith didn’t hear the rest of the conversation — about extrapolating the sensory lines, mapping his joints and ligaments, uploading the entire ASL database — and only stared mutely at his hands. He could talk. He could tell them. He could explain everything he’d done and said and cried for when he was a child, unable to hide from everyone including himself. The very notion made him want to cry, and run, at the same time.

Shiro, as alert to him and he would be to Shiro, gathered him up in his arms again. “It’s okay. This is good. This is good, baby. You’re going to be fine, okay? I’ll be right here.”

Keith could only nod into Shiro’s shoulder, shuddering with every breath.

When he surfaced from that safe haven, expectant faces awaited him. And just like he’d said to Shiro that night, he didn’t know where to start. Seeing him at a loss, Shiro raised his hands so Keith would notice, and signed. “Maybe it would help if we asked you questions? Then you don’t have to talk about everything at once.”

Their hopes were raised when instead of quietly nodding, Keith signed, <“Okay. I guess that would work.”>

“Goodness, that’s more words already!” Coran said, smiling widely. “Well done, both you and Number Five.”

Keith dared to let a corner of his mouth tick upwards, even as his very core shook, the walls around his heart growing more and more unstable. Shiro’s hand was firm at his waist, stroking up his ribs and down again, and that both grounded him and threatened all his foundations.

Then Hunk raised his hand, and asked, very carefully, “Why didn’t you ever ask for something to eat? I mean, you didn’t, when you were little. Do you… do you still… not ask?”

A small noise, childish and desperate, escaped him, but Shiro held on, kissed his temple, told him it was okay.

So he spoke. He told them about the foster families, the ones who were in it for the state funding and not the child in question. How asking for seconds got him backhanded even though firsts were far less than what he’d needed. How sneaking food when he was hungry got him worse. Afterwards, when he was housed with a decent family who wanted to help him gain some weight, he still daren’t ask for more than they gave him. He didn’t want the consequences. Even when the Garrison allowed second helpings, he made himself content with what he was given. It took Shiro shoving food at him and bringing him protein shakes every day for him to gain the weight he needed to qualify for fighter class.

<”I… guess maybe that’s why I’m small, even though I’m part Galra.”>

“What about now? You’re not… hoarding food or anything are you?” Hunk nearly ground out the question, because the thought of Keith going hungry, of anyone going hungry, pained him.

Keith shook his head vehemently, guilt bright in his eyes. <”I eat what you give me, Hunk.”>

The Yellow Paladin buried his face in his hands. That wasn’t what he meant at all. “Sweet quiznak, Keith….”

Pidge asked about that day with the magnetic toy kit. Keith told her he didn’t have much as a child, even while his father was alive, and relied on books, relied on learning to draw so he could copy diagrams, so he could understand things better. That was how he learned about engines, how he understood aerodynamics, how he remembered the night sky. It was how he solved problems, relying almost entirely on first principles. He used to think it made him less intelligent — it certainly made him a little slower — but he only had himself to rely on, and all he could do was work as hard as he could.

“No!” Pidge protested, popping back up onto her knees. “That’s not true at all! You’re… collapsing the problem and rebuilding it and finding out what needs to be solved! You made yourself understand things before knowing them, kinda. Sorta. It makes sense, honest! Like, Hunk would be too preoccupied with the problem and I’d complicate the possibilities, and yeah, you’d take longer getting there but you’d remember what you did.”

The tiniest smile graced the Red Paladin’s face. <”You learn more when you have to fix it.”>

Pidge beamed. “Exactly! Although… why did you get so upset? When it went wrong?”

Ten minutes later, she wished she hadn’t asked. She wished that Keith had had someone like her father, who wouldn’t have punished a bad grade, and instead would have asked if he needed help, if there was something he hadn’t quite understood, or if he was okay at school, if he liked his teachers. If he had friends. Her father, who wouldn’t have withheld love for something so minor as a B, who would certainly have never raised a hand to him.

Keith’s hands shook when he signed, <”They said I had to keep my grades up, stop making mistakes, or they’d —”>

He never got to finish: Pidge threw herself at him and hugged him, the angriest koala hug he’d ever had, and he could only hug her back. Somewhere beside him, he heard Hunk again, mumbling, “Sweet googly _quiznak_ …”

Everything was falling into place. With every question, every bout of signing, they learned the things that made everything make sense. How much he missed his father, how little anyone knew of his mother. Why the absence of both left him touch-starved, yet no one ever eased that hunger. Why he made himself content with being alone, why he never fought back at the Garrison even when rumours ran rife about him. Why he left, before, for the Blade of Marmora, because he couldn’t bear the rejection otherwise. How his heart still led him back, because he couldn’t _not_.

And then: “Keith. What happened? After Kerberos.”

They hadn’t talked about it. Not really. Whatever Shiro knew, he’d pieced together from what he knew of Keith ( _Why was he out in the desert alone? What happened with the Garrison? What had they told him?_ ), or what he’d gleaned off Pidge as she searched for Matt and her father ( _Pilot error? After all those years,_ pilot error _was what he was granted?_ ). Shiro never brought it up himself, but he always caught the pain in Keith’s eyes whenever Kerberos was mentioned, felt the sting in his heart whenever Lance reminded him he washed out.

Because Shiro didn’t believe that. Keith would never.

There was that pained twist in Keith’s expression again. This was a big hurt, Shiro knew. Keith’s child version had made that abundantly clear, that he was still nursing that pain, and Shiro wondered how deep his sins went when he thought about how much more hurt Keith had to bear when he disappeared again. He’d repent, if only Keith would let him.

He reached out with both hands, carefully cradling Keith’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. “Keith. You've put yourself through enough. You’ve carried this for long enough now, and I think it’s time to let that hurt out. It won’t change anything. You’re still the strongest, most incredible person I know, and there is nothing that you could tell me that would make me love you less.”

Keith’s eyes wouldn’t meet his own, and he could understand that. They had dreams together, back at the Garrison: Shiro’s were shattered, and Keith’s…

Something had happened. And Keith still hadn’t talked about it.

Keith pulled himself away, and there was a look in his eyes, a look that questioned Shiro’s truth about not loving him any less. Shiro could be affronted, he knew that, but he also knew where Keith was coming from. His caution was warranted, valid.

The Red Paladin heaved a deep breath, and brought his hands up.

<”They called it a pilot error. And I knew that couldn’t be true. I don’t know how they did it, but no one questioned that. No one asked what kind of error. Was it landing? Take-off? Was is systems? Did you crash? Did you blow up? Nothing. You were dead, and that was that, and everyone just… moved on. And I couldn’t.”> Keith was trembling now, his teeth worrying his lower lip, and they could all see his hand fighting to curl into a fist, to run his thumb over it, but he kept both of them open, and kept going.

<”I did the best I could, for you. I tried. But they talked about you like you weren’t the Golden Boy they worshipped, like it wasn’t your face and your success that inspired people to join the Garrison, or to do better. You were dead, Kerberos was a failure, and they dragged your name through the mud. I tried. I tried. You told me to be patient, to not let anything affect my focus. You always wanted the best for me, and I owed you that much. But —”>

He stopped, furiously wiping at tears that had yet to fall. Shiro could almost feel the collapse of Keith’s chest in his own. God but he loved this man, so very much, and he would kill — _he had_ — to make everything stop hurting.

<”Iverson called me down to do a sim demo for some first years. A new one that I hadn’t done, but that was the point. They’d all forgotten about you, and marked me out to replace you. Iverson knew I hated it. I think he knew I’d been trying to dig up stuff on Kerberos… he didn’t have proof, but…”> Keith took another breath, as if he’d been talking all this while and it was tiring him.

<”The sim was a Kerberos retrieval mission.”>

Shiro’s jaw dropped. “ _What?_ ”

Hunk audibly swallowed, and that sent Shiro whipping around at the other three Paladins. “Is this true?” He turned to Pidge, holding back his rage. “They did that? _To your brother and father?_ ”

Pidge nodded, tightly. “Yeah. Yeah, they did. It was the last exercise the three of us did together. That night, you crash-landed. So, I guess we had bigger things to worry about and, I honestly hadn’t thought about it since.”

“Keith, where was our counsellor?” Shiro demanded, wanting to shake something apart so badly he refused to touch Keith. “Did you go to her?”

Keith shook his head. <”Right after the announcement, she was transferred. No one told me. I didn’t… I didn’t have… “>

“Jesus Christ.” With a slap to his thighs Shiro stood, stalked the room like a caged panther, metal arm crossed over his chest, flesh hand over his mouth. Anger ran up his spine like an out-of-control bullet train, and he needed a moment. He needed to not give into the temptation to demand they wormhole back to Earth _right this minute_ so he can knock a few heads together and get answers.

“They were setting you up to fail.” Because Shiro knew that Keith was above all else devoted, possessed of a loyalty that would not let truth be buried. The longer Keith stayed after his presumed death, the more likely Keith would get down to the bottom of the lie. Keith’s will was strong, he would have stuck it out and stayed with the Garrison.

But his heart was stronger.

“What happened?”

Keith wouldn’t look at him. And for now, Shiro would allow it, because he wanted Keith to get that sense of shame out of his system. Let him feel the shame now, so they could make sure it would never have a chance to return ever again. He should never have needed to feel that shame in the first place.

<”I didn’t know what it was until the sim started loading. I knew the terrain as well as you did. I knew what I was looking at. And I just… “> He clenched his fists, opened his mouth and nothing but a choked sob left him. Then a frustrated whine, because he needed to speak, but his voice wouldn’t work, and he just wanted to hit something with his hands.

<”I put my fist through the screen. Both of them. They hauled me out of the sim pod, Iverson was yelling, he…”> The tears came now, tired and angry. <”He said I was shaping up to be as big a failure as you and I punched him. In the eye. There was still glass in my hands and…”>

Hunk looked a little pale at that. Lance was wide-eyed, but still silent.

<”I don’t remember much else. Commander Hunter was with me, he rushed me back to my dorm, fixed my hands, helped me pack. I don’t know how he did it, but he got me off the base, on our hoverbike. He told me to just go. That he’d find me. So I did.”>

Hunter. Shiro remembered him. They were peers, in different branches of the senior programme. Commander. Shiro couldn’t find it in himself to envy the promotion, because without it, Hunter might not have been able to help Keith.

“You went to the shack.”

Keith nodded, trying to breathe between hiccups. <”Commander Hunter found me a couple of days later. Brought me some supplies, extracted the last of my funding and my stipend. He brought me your stuff, too. I hadn’t known that you’d put me in your will. He told me… he was staying long enough to ensure that there would be no criminal charges. Then he was resigning. There was no denying that I was expelled.”>

So Hunter had to have been the reason the Garrison never found that shack. He must have erased map records, trails and tracks. He’d always been the better cartographer and navigator.

If they ever got home, Shiro was going to track Hunter down and buy the bastard the best, most expensive whisky he could find.

“Shiro,” Pidge called, and Shiro set all his attention back on Keith.

<”I’m so sorry, Shiro. I didn’t know… I couldn’t be what you asked. I couldn’t do it. It hurt so much. I don’t even remember a lot of the first little while… except —”>

By now Pidge had migrated to where Shiro had been, pressing close into Keith as if she could hide the tears that were staining her cheeks. Hunk didn’t bother hiding at all, but kept a big hand on Keith’s shoulder, rubbing it absently. Across the room, Allura had her hands over her mouth, eyes shining bright, while Coran remained oddly stoic, as if everything in this room was a secret, and he was making sure that he divided all that he heard into different parts to be scattered to different sections of his mind, so nothing could ever be betrayed.

Strangely, that was the moment Keith lifted his head, and locked his gaze with Allura’s.

<”I think the Blue Lion saved my life.”>

Something cold settled in Shiro’s chest. Something cold and horrible. “Keith?”

Keith’s face crumpled, and again, the sound of Shiro’s voice made him curl back into himself. Shiro forced himself to be patient. Let him feel, let him feel, then they could fix this.

<”I don’t remember a lot. I just remember hurting. Crying. I’d go out into the desert, drive, scream, I don’t even know. I hadn’t been sleeping, I was so tired, I don’t think I knew what was happening. I just remember taking some painkillers, probably too many, downed half of that bottle of that whisky you were saving for when you got back…”>

Oh god.

Shiro crossed the distance between them, crashing to his knees before the man he loved more than the stars, hands immediately cupping his face, making him look up, he needed to look at him, to see he was alive because _gods_ how many times did they have to lose each other? How many more times were they allowed before they stopped being this lucky? He thumbed away the tears on Keith’s cheeks, slid his hands through his hair, all the way down the length until he could feel the warmth of the nape of his neck under his flesh-and-blood hand.

“Keith,” and it was a choked whisper, splintering his soul, the soul that was only whole because Keith had mended it. “Oh, Keith, baby…”

Keith’s chest hitched, and Shiro could see an ugly cry about to happen. He’d only seen it once before, when Keith turned 18 and the grief of losing his father had hit him like a sledgehammer. <”I didn’t mean to… everything was a mess. I was a mess. But something woke me up, it was like… the opposite of a heart attack. I woke up, and I remember throwing everything up, and everything was clear for a minute. I don’t know. I drove to a hospital in the next town from the Garrison. They checked me out, and I was fine. And when I got back… that was when I felt that energy, the one that kept drawing me out. And it was the same one that woke me up. It was Blue.”>

By now all of them were in tears — Coran gamely keeping his chin up as if the angle change would stop them — and Allura had joined them in the huddle, sandwiching Pidge against Keith. The Red Paladin was shaking so hard now it seemed to take all of them to keep him together. And for all the release that they’d allowed him, he still held back: there was nothing but strangled whimpers, and it reminded them of how Little Keith had refused to cry aloud, how it had only happened once, and when it did, it was unending as much as it ended him.

Shiro brushed his bangs back, curled his cool metal hand against his cheek, tipped close so their noses touched. He breathed, steadily, willing Keith to follow, willing him to find calm. “Keith,” he said, so close that he was sure Keith would feel the words as well as hear them, “You did so well, okay? You’re so strong. We… we’ve needed to have this talk, all of us, and you’ve done it. I’m so proud —”

Keith pulled away as if burned, pushing back so violently he dislodged Hunk and Pidge, and even Allura toppled over onto the cushions. His eyes were scrunched tight, shaking his head wildly. Pidge threw herself back across his lap, genuinely afraid Keith was going to leap off the sofa and… run away. She clung to him, tablet crushed between them, and Keith dropped his face in his hands in defeat, weeping brokenly like a child.

Shiro reached, took Keith’s hands in his own, and even with his eyes closed, face rumpled with tears, and cheeks flushed with upset, he was so beautiful, and he loved him so much that sometimes he couldn’t understand how the universe kept moving around them in the face of how powerfully he felt for Keith. Hadn’t the universe learned? Hadn’t it seen how they’d torn across galaxies for each other?

“I’m sorry, Shiro.”

It was a breath in three parts, more than speech. It was so soft, like it had broken through the blocks of its own prison, broken through that psychological barrier that brought them here. It had fought its way out, just as any part of Keith would have. Fought to get to Shiro.

Fought, because Shiro held his hands, and so he could not sign. So he spoke.

“Keith, no —”

“I failed you,” he croaked, breaking around every edge. “I failed you, at the Garrison. I broke my promise. I tried, and I failed you. I failed you when I lost you, when I lost _me_. And I failed you when I couldn’t find you, I failed you when I couldn’t lead. I failed you when I found you but I didn’t because I was _wrong_ —”

Shiro bit his tongue, almost tasted blood. Project Kuron. The Galra were going to pay for _so much_.

The rest could barely hear him, but Shiro could hear every word like crystal. There was no strength in Keith’s voice but it was there, no different to any other time the Red Paladin should have been silenced and yet there he stood. Keith had known nothing except how to exist, and it was his vengeance against an unfair universe that he persisted in that existence.

“I failed you when we started this, because I wouldn’t… I couldn’t…I tried. I wanted so much to. I didn’t know how. I’m sorry, Shiro. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Shiro let Keith’s hands go, because he needed his own, so he could wipe away the unending tears, soothe tired skin. He knew he’d never been this open in his love and affection for Keith in front of the team, but touch was what Keith responded to above all senses. His fingers, warm and cool, found all the soft, sensitive spots that could quiet his beloved, his soulmate, his all. Eventually their eyes met, and Keith mouthed the words as he signed them.

Pointed to himself. Crossed his fists against his heart. Pointed back at Shiro.

Three words, over and over, and over again until the lock was broken, and he fell into Shiro’s arms with a small wail, emptying out his heart. The muffled scream reverberated through Shiro’s ribcage, but he held on, smiling, because it felt as though Keith was finally free.

It didn’t last two hours. It was more like twenty minutes that they all stayed in their huddle, quiet tears accompanying Keith’s more primal release, until he grew quiet, until he stopped shaking, and could lift his head back up. Once more, Shiro cupped his face in his hands, and levelled their gazes.

“I will tell you this every single day of our lives if I have to, to get it through that stubborn head, through that heart of yours. I love you, Keith Kogane. I love you, and I am so proud of you. I will always be proud of you, and for as long as you stay your heart’s course, you could never, ever fail me. Okay?”

Slowly, so slowly, Keith smiled, and it was almost serene. He let his eyes close, and he nodded.

Shiro would have stayed where he was, if not for the presence beside him. He looked up, then took his hands away and moved to one side.

Lance knelt in front of Keith. His face was marred by tear tracks as well, even though he hadn’t said a word throughout. Keith couldn’t help but stare as Lance gingerly worked his long fingers over his gloves, taking them off and setting them aside, before taking his bare hands into his own. He waited as the Blue Paladin took a moment, then two, before he spoke.

“I wish you’d told me,” he said, something loose and raw in his voice. “Even if you hadn’t, I wish you’d punched me. For every time I brought it up, called you…” And he wouldn’t say it now, would never say it again. “You should have kicked me into the dirt. You had every right to. And yet you didn’t. You still don’t, and I don’t deserve that.” Lance let go of one hand so he could swipe a sleeve over his face, but it was back again in a flash, as if holding on to Keith kept him brave.

“Blue is my lion. Blue chose me, in the end, but she saved your life. I’m proud to be the Blue Paladin, but I’m more proud that my lion saved you. We wouldn’t all be here if she hadn’t, and I’m so stupid, Keith. I’m so fucking _stupid_ , I don’t deserve Blue if I can’t see what she saw in you. I don’t deserve to… be anywhere _near_ you, because of all the things I said, the things I did. I —”

Keith took his hands back, and Lance’s face fell, because this was what he deserved. It was impossible that Keith could forgive him, not when his hurt went so deep for so long.

But Keith slid off the sofa, so he could kneel on the floor, too, and without question, he gathered Lance into a hug, saying nothing.

Lance stiffened where Keith simply melted, the release having taken all his edges away, and Lance found himself welling up again, before he threw his arms around Keith, and broke down. Keith didn’t let go, even as Lance cursed his name for his soft heart, called him an idiot for never saying anything, begged for forgiveness even though it was clear that Keith wouldn’t give something that he didn’t feel was warranted.

Quietly, Keith thanked his child-self, and basked in the love that surrounded him. In the friend in his arms, in the small delicate hug at his side, the big hand on his back, the brush of long hair against his cheek, the kiss at his temple.

He would never be hungry again.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie to you: I cried writing this. 
> 
> I've said before that I identify deeply with Keith, and to a fair degree, Shiro as well. It's one of the main reasons I ship them. Writing this has been both painful, and cathartic, and when I think about it, to extrapolate canon Keith into how he is in this fic isn't that big a stretch, and that makes him all the more compelling as a character. To me he embodies the idea that we are all fighting something, all the time. We all have our battles, and we aren't always winning. 
> 
> The daughter of one of my best and oldest friends learned basic BSL in a parent-and-baby programme called Sing and Sign. While she doesn't have the vocabulary to express herself, she can sign, and she was the inspiration for this chapter. She's just over 18 months. 
> 
> Keith and Shiro are going to be just fine. We all will, with time.


	6. Epilogue

“You will be leaving soon, yes?”

Keith nodded as he walked slowly alongside the Empress Dowager. “Yeah. Allura and Shiro are just finalizing a few things with the Empress, and then we’ll be heading off.”

The Empress Dowager hummed. “To your next big adventure, I expect.”

“I’m… kinda hoping that we’ll sail along the solar winds for a bit,” he returned, shrugging.

“Yes!” she cackled, good-naturedly. “I suppose you’ve all had a bit of an adventure already.”

They were alone, the two of them, wandering the paths of the gardens within the palace grounds. The Empress Dowager had asked for him, and after the Empress pointedly checked all her mother’s pockets for any evidence of potion-making, she sent them on their way, though the Empress Dowager maintained an exaggerated pout until they were out of sight of the others. If Keith looked up to his right, he could see the little elevated courtyard where all this began. Lance stood there, keeping a watchful eye on him. The Empress Dowager did not seem to mind the scrutiny at all.

Neither did Keith. He didn’t need protecting, but that Lance wanted to be there was… nice.

“Come, let me take a look at you.”

Keith stopped to face the Empress Dowager. She had to go up on tiptoes to run her fingers over his face — and the feeling was strange, like being caressed by mossy twigs, earthy but soft — before resting a hand on the centre of his chest. She smiled, and it was a smile that Keith imagined all grandmothers had when they were satisfied with their grandchildren: wise and approving and deep. She hummed, too, a self-satisfied sound. “Oh good. _Good_. Much better. So much better, my dear.”

“Your… Highness?” Keith frowned, not quite understanding, wondering if he’d missed something.

“When you first arrived, oh my dear, you were all tangled and knotted, trapped in a snare of your own making,” she said, shaking her head. “And the more you tried to hide, the tighter the snare, and you had no idea where the roots were, how to cut yourself free.” She tipped Keith’s chin with a gnarled finger, when she saw his eyes drop to the ground. “Now there is an ease to you. Clean and bright. Like a fresh breeze.”

Keith allowed a smile. “I guess. It’s… been a strange week.”

The Empress Dowager clicked her tongue, raising one arched eyebrow. “Ah. You think this will not last.”

He said nothing, only biting his lip. His fist curled, but his thumb stayed still.

“Well, it won’t,” she said, tilting her head thoughtfully. “But you will always be able to return to this. Roots can regrow, and trip you when you least expect, but you know better now, that you aren’t the only custodian of your heart. Your friends are there for you, and you must learn to rely on them, hmm?” She peered around him, eyes narrowing at the sight of Lance on the balcony. “Even _that_ one.”

Keith stifled a laugh when he saw Lance look around, as if someone had called out to him. Confused, and finding no one, he returned to his vigil, albeit with deep suspicion that something was amiss somewhere, and Keith could no longer hold back a giggle.

“Ah, a laugh,” the Empress Dowager preened, clapping her hands. “How wonderful. Such a lovely one, too. And what a smile.”

Eyes widening at the praise, Keith ducked his head, feeling his cheeks warm. He kept his gaze to the floor, until the Empress Dowager’s hands were on him again, tipping his chin back up. “You should never hide, Red Paladin. Especially not this,” and she dropped a hand on his chest, over his heart. “Don’t let walls keep them from seeing your heart. And don’t ever let it harden. Don’t let the sharp edges cut those who want nothing more than to hold your heart in their hands. It would be unfair to them, and all the more unfair to you.”

Not knowing what to say, Keith simply nodded, tight-lipped. He gasped a small breath when the Empress Dowager took both his hands, uncurling them from their fists, fingers massaging them. “You have been through so much. Yet it is in your nature to remain sweet, and kind, beneath your anger and doubt. That, my dear, is a sign of strength all of its own. This war will need your sweetness, your kindness. Do not deprive us of that, hmm?”

“I’ll… I’ll try,” he promised. And it was a promise. He had a lot to unlearn, and he still needed to communicate better, but the first steps had come to pass, and he knew that there would be a hand — several — to hold him through the future steps. He would work it out. He always did, eventually.

A chirrup came from the communicator in his vambrace, and he carefully removed that hand from the Empress Dowager’s hold, letting her continue her ministrations on the remaining hand. “Yeah?”

Shiro’s face popped up on the holographic screen. _“Hey. We’re about done and we’re meeting back at the Castle. You doing okay?”_

“Yeah,” he said, nodding with a small smile. “I’m good. I’ll see you in a minute.” The hologram winked away.

The Empress Dowager hummed, then motioned for him to follow. “Come, then. I imagine my daughter will be seeing all of you off, so I shall come along, too.”

“We would be honoured, Your Highness.”

“I must say,” she began, and Keith did not miss the cheeky smirk she now wore, “you have excellent taste, my dear. That Black Paladin…” She hummed, low and appreciative. “Those shoulders. And that _behind_ , gracious I am but an old woman but to see such a fine thing —”

Keith didn’t hear anymore: he’d sputtered, and then simply burst out laughing, hard. He staggered, slightly, while trying to still walk forward, a hand going to his belly because he was sure he would explode if he didn’t hold himself together. The Empress Dowager remained unrepentant of her observations, but she smiled.

The sound of the Red Paladin’s laughter was like the fall of rain.

 

 

  
It was an almost alien sensation that filled his chest, when he approached the Castle and found his team and the Alteans there, waiting for him. Pidge was waving, as if he couldn’t see her, Hunk and Lance had matching grins, and Shiro’s smile was quiet, private, only for him. The warm sensation fluttered at the smile, and Keith held on to that feeling, memorized it, knowing he would use it the next time a dark day visited him. He had this, now.

He turned to the Empress Dowager, but before he could open his mouth, she took his hands, patted them gently, and said, “You’re welcome.”

Keith found his cheeks flushing, and nodded, a shy smile blooming on his face. He barely needed the nudge the Empress Dowager gave him before he made his way to his team.

His family.

Pidge immediately leapt into him, circling her small arms around his waist. Hunk draped a heavy arm across his back, rubbing absently at his shoulder while Lance reached up to ruffle his hair. He felt small, suddenly, surrounded as he was, but overwhelmingly _safe_. It was an odd notion, that he was about to step back into the Castle of Lions and fly out into space, yet he could feel roots — new, fresh, strong — sinking into him, anchoring him to these people, this place in time. He daren’t yet call it home, even though he knew deep down that was exactly what it was.

Shiro brushed his fingertips with his own, a whisper of a touch to let him know he was there. “You ready to go?”

Keith nodded, a quick, rapid gesture that made his hair bounce. “Uh-huh.”

There came a squeak from nearby, and there was Hunk, eyes wide and wet wearing a watery smile that was… _wibbling_ was the only word Keith could think of.

“Oh my gosh. Oh. _My gosh_. Okay, okay, is it me, or is that even cuter on Big Keith than it was on Little Keith? It’s not just me, right? You guys think it’s super cute too, right? Right?”

Pidge giggled, while Shiro looked on fondly. Allura and Coran went past to prepare for take-off, but not before sharing affectionate gestures with Keith. They’d all learned now: touch was key.

Lance rolled his eyes and wandered off into the Castle. “Ugh. Not this again. I’m all outta cute. I’m done. I’mma get a nap before dinner.”

Keith bit his lower lip, barely containing himself, and then said in a much higher voice than usual, “Bye-bye, Lans.”

Lance screamed.

 

 

  
Neither of them were asleep.

Shiro could feel Keith’s wakefulness under his hand, where the warmth of his palm met the gentle movement of Keith’s ribs as he breathed. He hadn’t wanted to question it, especially when the tension in Keith’s body slowly bled away as they grew settled in their bed. He hadn’t wanted to change the position they were in, Keith’s back pressed firm against his chest, the crown of his head tucked under Shiro’s chin. Their bodies met skin to skin, an only recent development in their intimacy, and Shiro couldn’t fully express how much he’d missed it.

He and Keith always touched. It was almost what defined them, the hand to the shoulder practically signature by now. But with their new relationship came new touches: Keith reaching for Shiro’s fingers, sometimes doing little more than linking their pinkies together; Shiro brushing a curl of hair back behind Keith’s ear; nuzzles and chaste kisses.

Sharing a bedroom was another new step, both of them with obstacles to overcome. Shiro let Keith see all of his scars for the very first time, let him slowly undress him, revealing each mark heavy with memory and meaning, until he was bare before him. And Keith let his walls fall, just for him, and Shiro saw in his eyes how naked his soul was, as naked as he stood. That night they held each other, skin upon skin, warm and bare and anchored to one another, and it was everything Shiro dreamed it would be. There were forays into sloppy make-outs, and even sloppier acts of pleasuring each other, but that one final step of intimacy still eluded them.

Especially since… well. That was a conversation they’d yet to have.

And with the way the last week had shifted Shiro’s heart, now was as good a time as any.

“Keith?”

“Mmm?”

Shiro took a breath. Things were better. They could talk. They would. “Do you think you’d let Mysa run a few more tests, now that your change has settled down?”

Keith lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I guess. And with everything that happened… I mean, I don’t feel any different, so that’s something. And she did say to wait a couple of months before another check-up.”

“She did. You’re right.” And even to his own ears, Shiro knew it was a poor response. There was nothing he didn’t already know, and Keith knew that. For all his talk on communicating, he was doing a pretty piss-poor job of it. He held back a sigh, wondering if Keith would shut down, or maybe just ignore the badly-phrased question.

Instead he heard a sigh, hesitant but long, and he felt Keith shift in his arms, turning over so they were facing each other. Shiro wasn’t immediately willing to meet Keith’s eyes, but a quick upwards peek told him a blank expression waited for him, even though those eyes sparked with a kind of perplexed curiosity.

“Shiro,” and he still couldn’t look, until, “Takashi.” Only then did he lift his gaze, away from a very uninteresting spot in the sheets to meet Keith’s. And he was right: carefully neutral, but anxious. Shiro waited, waited as Keith slipped a hand down to collect his own, twining their fingers together, and felt this heart stutter when he felt that smaller thumb rub up and down, steadily warming that one patch of skin.

“Takashi. What are you really asking?”

Shiro wasn’t entirely sure, if he was being honest with himself. It was hard, without Keith. It was hard while he was lost and away from Voltron, harder still when Keith was right there and yet not. But holding Little Keith had also felt so right, made him hate himself for how selfish he was for wanting more when he was the one who proposed that they take their time, for Keith’s sake. He’d waited on his feelings for so long, telling himself that the time wasn’t right at the Garrison, that he might die in the arena, that they were in the middle of an intergalactic war, that he finally seized it with everything he had and demanded th universe give him this one blessed thing.

He should be content to have Keith in his arms, loving him the way he did. Content to wait until the kisses and touches grew and he would get to make love to this man the way he’d dreamed, the way Shiro felt he deserved. The way they both deserved.

But the thought of a small child, with the jet black hair they both possessed, and Keith’s eyes…

“What’s forever to you?”

Keith’s mouth fell open, but Shiro pressed on. “Because when I was away, that felt like forever. Being away from you felt like forever. It felt so long that even though I know you, I know how you are and how you love, I was afraid you wouldn’t be there when I got back. You were always there, and the thought of you _not_ …” He raised their entwined hands, carefully kissing Keith’s knuckles, reverent and worshipful because he was never meant to have this _and yet_. “I don’t know how to exist without you, Keith. You said if it weren’t for me, your life would be different. I don’t know what life I would have had at all if it weren’t for you. I want you here with me forever but now that I have you, forever feels like it could end at any moment.”

Shiro watched Keith’s eyes, watched the light in them change as he seemed to consider his words. Watched warmth turn to steel when he said, “I think we make our own forevers, Takashi. Whatever you want it to be.”

“What if it’s not the same as what _you_ want it to be?” And Shiro begged Keith to be selfish, too, to just this once, ask for something for himself, because all Shiro wanted to do was give it to him.

Keith took a breath, and huffed it out, pulling back his hand so he could sweep back Shiro’s silver bangs from his eyes. “I already have what I want. I want a home. And I have that. With you. So, as long as you’ll have me, I have what I want.”

“And if I want more?” And it fell out in a rush, leaving Shiro almost ready to regret it. Ready to reach for Keith’s hand in case he tried to leave the bed, leave the room.

Instead he was met with wide violet eyes and a blooming blush across pale cheeks, and the blush only grew as the eyes looked away. “I… Is this why you brought up Mysa?”

Slowly, Shiro shifted and collected Keith into his arms, pressing him flush against his chest, brushed his lips against his brow. “Keith. Remember before, when I said if anything ever happened to me? Nothing is going to. _Nothing_. Ever again. I know now, that you fought for me every step of the way even before the Blue Lion. And I owe it to you to fight just as hard for you. For _us_. I want us to come out of this, someday, and be a family. A real family. You, and me, and…”

And.

He felt a slight dampness against his chest, so he waited, ran his fingers through Keith’s hair, kissed his crown.

“You’re… not freaked out by it?”

Shiro shuffled back so they could see each other, and he thumbed away the tears and kissed the closed eyelids before pressing their foreheads together. “Keith, I love you. Your heart, your mind, your soul, and your body. What I want, well, what I’d _like_ , and only when you’re ready, is to explore your body with you, and see where it takes us. What it can give us.”

Keith chuckled, low and quiet, and a crooked little smile settled on his face. “You were… Good. With me. When I was little. I think, I think you’d be a —” His blush was back, and he lowered his eyes in uncommon shyness and ducked his head back down to snuggle against Shiro’s chest. “Two more weeks. I’m due to talk to Mysa in two weeks, and… if she needs to see me, you should come with.”

“Okay,” and Shiro couldn’t stop the smile threatening to crack his face open. “Okay.”

“Can’t promise anything, though. I’m still a hybrid. We don’t know —”

“Whatever happens, Keith, I still love you, and I would still very much like to… um, you know.”

“Really.”

Damn him, Keith had lowered his voice in just that way he knew drove him crazy. Shiro turned his face into the pillow and groaned, because Keith was going to be the death of him, and he could want nothing more. He would live, kill, and die for this man, this firestorm of a soul who held his heart so dearly.

He felt the smaller man quaking against him, holding back his laughter. “Well, good. Because, ah, I would very much like to… _you know_ … too.”

Shiro resurfaced, kissed Keith’s nose before nuzzling it with his own. “But after Mysa.”

“Yeah. After.”

They snuggled back down, into the covers and into each other, and Shiro promised himself, with more conviction than ever, that he would do everything in his power to make this moment repeat itself, on and on until the end of his days. He wanted more than love, and it felt like it was well within his grasp.

“’Kashi?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Keith yawned, and said, “That song. Could you sing it again?”

And in the dark, in the softness and strength of each other, Shiro did.

 _I had no master plan_  
_I had no grand design_  
_I got a little out of hand_  
_I got a little out of line_  
_But that ain’t me no more_  
_I’m leaving that life behind_

_I’m yours_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are done. 
> 
> This marks the very first multi-chapter project I have ever finished, and I am really proud of it. I'm proud of what it's done, how it's touched so many people, and I'm proud of myself, for just being able to do this. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, for commenting, for leaving kudos. Thank you so very much.


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